Mephistopheles
by Immaculate Grey Lady
Summary: After releasing the professor from a frightening ritual, Hermione and Snape engage in a clandestine mission to find Dumbledore. However, they soon realize that the situation is much more complicated than either had anticipated.
1. Hell Is Other People

Mephistopheles

By- TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com) 

Chapter 1~  Hell Is Other People

            Hermione sat alone in her house.  Not alone in actuality but alone in essence.  She had a companion of sorts, if he could be called that.

            It was funny in a way.  Funny in a "just when you think everything's going to be okay, life pulls the rug out from under you" kind of way.  She lit a cigarette and tried to inhale.  She failed, coughing violently, and crushed the butt out after a few attempts.  Not much of a smoker.  It seemed like one of the many things she'd failed at recently. 

            She had thought that nothing would ever compare to the gut-wrenching ache she experienced when her parents were murdered.  Now… now she wasn't so sure anymore.  Because he was there…  He lived with her now- a perpetual reminder that the world is not just, that corruption and lies are ill-concealed beneath positions of power.  That some problems never go away.  Some stay and mindlessly obey your every whim, unwillingly stalking you, and the empathy you experience builds up into a brilliant and exquisite roar.

            She could tell him to slit his wrists and he would do it, powerless to stop the bleeding.

            She looked at him, not even a shell of the man he had been.  The man who had so often struck terror in her now sat obediently on the couch.  Unable to speak, unable to eat, unable to even _think_ unless she wished it, this man was wholly dependent on her.

            Severus Snape had been here for eight days.  It felt like a lifetime… if you could call it that.  

             He was supposed to be her reparation.  He was supposed to fill the void her parents had left when the Death Eaters struck last summer.  He was her slave.  The whole prospect made her sick to her stomach.  She would have thought that her campaign for the welfare of house-elves would have told the Ministry what she thought of Snape's position.  The man to whom she owed so much.  The man who saved her life was her slave because he couldn't save her parents as well.

            Dumbledore would have never let this happen.

            The Headmaster had been missing since Voldemort's defeat.  He had disappeared into infinity; no one even knew for sure if he was still alive.  Cornelius Fudge, the eternal opportunist, took the opening and slammed Snape with the same sentence the other Death Eaters had received.

            She didn't know how they did it.  She couldn't really bring herself to care.  She couldn't really bring herself to do much of anything.  

            "This is so wrong," she whispered to no one, "you helped us.  You helped me.  We would all be dead if it weren't for you.  And you're here and you're helpless.  You would be so _angry_ with me if you knew how you were living.  God, should I just kill you and put you out of your misery?  And now," she laughed, "Now, I'm sitting here talking to you as if you've an iota of what I'm saying."

            She was met with silence, not even a glimmer of recognition in his vacant eyes, "Sleep, professor.  God knows, I wish I could."

            His eyes closed and his breathing deepened.  He was still sitting upright.  She coaxed him into a more comfortable position.  She was waiting for Harry and Ron.  They were the two people most capable of finding the magic that did this.  Their role in the war had brought them enough fame to be let into the inner workings of the Ministry.  She, however, was a Muggle-born.  Politics are politics.

            It was funny that Lucius Malfoy, the man who had been the bane of her existence, had garnered enough contempt against Muggle-borns to prevent her from learning what she needed to know.  It was even funnier that he, too, was mindlessly tending to some Muggle-born's needs.  

            Lots of things were funny.  The world was getting downright hilarious with all this rampant irony.

              _God, I'm bitter_, she thought.

            She flipped on the television, hoping to find some distraction while she waited.  She'd already tried to read but kept feeling as if someone was looking over her shoulder.  She knew what was bothering her so much.  She couldn't imagine feeling any different if Snape was, indeed, a corpse.  Except, she probably wouldn't feel as guilty, like she had done something wrong.  She turned off the television and waited, taking a gulp of the stiff drink in her hand.  

            She sputtered slightly as she forced the burning drink down her throat.  Hermione Granger wasn't much of a drinker, either.

            A knock sounded at the door.  She dropped her glass onto the floor, where it shattered.  The silence was really getting to her.  She was living in a house with a dead man who wasn't really dead.

            Opening the door, she was relieved to see Harry and Ron.  They entered the house as they would enter a funeral parlor, silent and reserved.  Respecting the dead.  It was mildly humorous, considering they had so little respect for him when he wasn't half dead.

            "Hermione," Ron spoke lowly as though Snape could be disturbed, "We've figured it out."

Author's Notes-  I know a lot of you may be wondering what's going on with Disturbances right now.  Well, I'm working on this story and Disturbances in tandem.  Stretching my wings and whatnot.  

            I can only say that if you are looking for light, funny humor… you're probably in the wrong place.  This is a response to the WIKTT "Hollow Man" challenge.  There's gonna be some pretty weird imagery in the next chapter, so I warn you now.

            A huge thanks to Moaning Myrtle, who graciously offered to beta this fic for me. 


	2. Entering Purgatory

Mephistopheles

By- TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 2~  Entering Purgatory

            It was risky but it would get her out of the damn house.  In the event that the plan worked out according to design, Hermione stood the chance of escaping her predicament with her sanity intact.  It was a risk she felt like she had to take.

            She listened to Harry as he explained the story, the solution that she had been searching for over the past eight days.  She was somewhat surprised.  While Harry and Ron had been going through the Ministry to find applicable solutions, Hermione had been soul searching to discover one that would simply allow her to continue living her life. 

            This had happened because the Dementors were gone, Harry had said, which was actually a mixed blessing.  It was good because the Death Eaters, namely Snape, were still able to be disposed of.  It was bad because whatever process had accomplished it left each individual a mindless slave.  

            Funny… but then again, lots of things were funny.

            No Dementors meant no kisses.  No kisses meant these people still had souls.  He could still be saved.  For all intents and purposes, their _essences_ had been removed.  Intelligence, personality, free will, and abilities all extricated from their bodies.

            _Removed_, she thought, _but not gone_.  They were stored at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Mysteries, a place Harry and Ron were not particularly eager to go to for their own reasons.   It was merely a matter of retrieving the goods and putting them back into Snape, turning him back into his original self.  She didn't like him much as a whole man but she was sick of him being half a man in her home, constantly reminding her of the things she was so tired of thinking about.

            "How are we going to do this?" She whispered.

            "You plus me times Invisibility Cloak divided by the Ministry equals Snape, a whole man again."  Harry said.  

            "How long did it take you to come up with that one?" she giggled softly, instantly feeling guilty. "What about Snape?"

            "Ron's already agreed to baby-sit."

            She glanced at Ron, "That seems somewhat uncharacteristic for you, Ron.  Giving up an adventure to spend time with Snape?"

            "We all remember what happened the last time I was in the Department of Mysteries," Ron gestured to his skull, "I'm not aiming to go out and have it happen again."

            Harry whipped out his cloak before she could come up with a suitable response and shot her a smile that would send many girls to their knees. "We can go now." 

            "Harry," she smiled as she said it, "have I told you lately that I love you?"

            Gallantly falling to one knee, Harry smiled and said, "Thy rescue mission awaits, oh apple of my eye."

            "Oh Harry," she said with mock sincerity, "You are my knight in shining armor!"  

                        *                                              *                                              *

            "Bottoms up!"  Harry said as he tilted the vial back and drank deeply, trying to bite back the bile rising.

            Hermione did the same, internally commenting that polyjuice isn't nearly as unpleasant when you're using it correctly. 

            She wasn't sure if this constituted as the best idea they'd ever had.  They would be using the same tactics they had used when trying to save Sirius.  Needless to say, there would be a few changes in the method.  As they climbed into the phone booth and dialed six two four four two, they were asked their names and business.

            "Ron Weasley," Harry uttered.

            "Ginny Weasley, we're here to bring our father dinner."

            After all, with a father who was renowned for working late nights, nobody would think anything suspicious of Ron and Ginny stopping by.

            "Thank you," the female's automated voice replied as two pins stating their aliases were dropped into the coin chute.  "Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.  Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium." 

            They attached the pins bearing their assumed names and the words, "Food Delivery," and happily watched as the pavement rose around them while the lift descended.  They waited anxiously; they had one hour to meet with Arthur and find a way to secret themselves into the Department of Mysteries.  

            The voice chimed in again, "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening," as the doors opened with a resounding "Ding."

            They presented themselves for registration, Hermione's nerves grating at the high chance of discovery.  

            Luckily, Ron had been right.  They'd presented their respective wands, borrowed (or in her case, stolen with the intent to return it) from the actual owners, and the night workers barely gave them a second glance.  They hurried upstairs to Arthur's office.  Outside the door, Harry halted Hermione.

            "You know what to do."

            She nodded quickly, red hair falling into her face.  She turned and went into the bathroom, hearing Harry say, "Hello, Dad.  We thought you'd like something to eat…" before she rushed inside the women's loo.

            She hurriedly took Ginny's wand and cast a disillusionment charm before covering herself with the invisibility cloak.  She inched to the door, opening it slightly.  It would hardly benefit her to be invisible if she went around throwing doors open in front of people.  Walking to the men's loo, she caught more conversation between Harry and Arthur.

            "It's from a muggle restaurant.  Harry recommended it," he said. Hermione suspected that Harry enjoyed talking about himself in the third-person.  "McDoogal's or something."

            "Most _fascinating_!" Arthur commented, "Why is it all wrapped up like this?"

            "I haven't a clue.  Well, I'm off to find Ginny."

            "Ginny?  Is she here?" Arthur asked, confused.

            "Wanted to see some new Auror.  I swear she goes on about him like he's Harry."  Hermione had to bite back the laughter.

            "Ahhhh!  Well, girls will be girls.  Heaven help us if we ever understand them.  Be good, my boy."

            "See you soon, Dad," Harry said as he made his hasty exit.  He walked the corridor and headed straight for the men's restroom.  He held the door open for a second as though he were tying his shoelace then entered.

            "You here?" He asked.

            "Yes, I'm here," she replied and removed the cloak, "Looks like our alibis are cemented."

            "Damn right.  Last thing we need is for someone to know that we've been here," he said, tapping Ron's wand to his head.  He shivered as his own Disillusionment spell took effect, then crawled under the cloak with Hermione.  They took the halls slowly, trying their damnedest to be as unobtrusive as possible.  They took the stairs to the Department of Mysteries.

            No voice chimed to welcome them, the automated system was oblivious to their presence.  This area was seemingly empty.  However, neither of them was prepared to remove the cloak and risk discovery at the hands of some overachieving intern.  They crept through the corridors at a snail's pace, no longer consumed with worry at the time limit of the polyjuice.  Harry led Hermione through the complicated maze.  Through the Prophecy room, short quite a few prophecies since fifth year, and into another room that she hadn't noticed the last time she was here.  A plaque hung above the threshold, bearing words that sent a chill through her:

            **A Curse Upon All Stored Here**

            _Pleasant sentiment_, she thought, trying to shake the anxiety.  They entered the room and sealed the door behind them.  She heard Harry's shocked gasp but was too overwhelmed to offer any comfort.

            The walls were bleeding.  Thick, black-red fluid covered the entire room and everything in it.  Harry quickly removed the cloak so as to not get any on it and tucked it beneath his arm.  A set of steps led down into the liquid, she didn't want to think about how deep it was.  The domed ceiling she was looking for was nowhere in sight.

            "You know what to do," Harry murmured, "but we don't have to do this."

            Hermione shook her head and removed her cloak and shoes, handing them to Harry.  She took her own wand and the container they'd brought and took a hesitant step towards the stairs.  Taking a step into the warm goop, she tried to suppress the girlish shrieks that threatened to escape.  With another step, the substance rose to beneath her shins.  She shut her eyes as she stepped down again and again and again until she was wading in this disgusting fluid.  

            Something brushed against her thigh.  Several somethings.  She heavily debated ignorance but, then again, that wouldn't be very Gryffindor of her.  She dared to look down.  In the dim light, they looked like smooth, balled-up, pulsing socks floating in the water.  Unable to take her eyes away, she reached down and picked one up.

            It was a beating heart.

            Hermione did what any person in her predicament would do.  She gagged as she dropped it.  Dimly, Harry's voice registered in her ears, asking if she was okay.  Valiantly trying to shake the blood from her hand, she raced forward, wanting this to be over with as soon as humanly possible.

            Her breath came out in short gasps as she dared herself to look up.  The ceiling was a swirling, blackened mass of contorted faces, vaguely reminiscent of a perverted Sistine Chapel.  These people were trapped there… and needless to say, they weren't looking very happy about it.  The blood dripped into her eyes from a figure that had opened its mouth, vomiting a fresh layer into the pool.  Suddenly, all of them screamed.  It nearly deafened her, causing her to almost drop the two things she needed to get out of here.  

            Gathering all the courage she had, she opened the container and raised her wand into the air, calling, "Substantia Natura."  Nothing happened.  All this hell for nothing.  _You have got to be bloody kidding me!_

            "Professor Snape!" She screamed futilely, letting the blood from the ceiling drip over her face as she aimed her voice up. "Come here _now_!"  Nothing happened, "Severus Snape!  Get your sorry arse down here right now!  I am _not_ leaving without you!"

            A figure tore itself away from the ceiling and hovered slightly above her, "Why are you here?" it rasped.

            She'd recognize that cocky lilt anywhere, "To get you back."

            "I belong here, Miss Granger."

            "Pardon if I beg to differ, Professor." She mumbled, determined to cast the spell properly this time.  She aimed her wand directly at the figure and cried, "Substantia Natura!"

            The figure cast off the blackness and reverted into a brilliant beam of light.  Screaming, it entered the container.  She sealed the bottled goods and tucked it into her coat pocket.  She paused for a second; it felt like a current had passed her.  Paralysis suddenly struck, something else was in this pool.  Just has the thought processed in her mind, something hard and thin grabbed her foot, burning her skin.  She jerked her foot away, almost falling backwards into the blood.

            Not even bothering to look at it, she ran as fast as she could before collapsing onto the edge of the pool, emptying her stomach.

            "Gods," Hermione gagged. "What… what?"

            "It's got to be some kind of security device," Harry said, cleaning the vomit from the floor with a flick of his wand.  They both turned and looked at the pool again as several large skeletal hands began to break the surface.  "Let's get the hell out of here."   

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Hermione had already washed her hair three times and scrubbed her skin until it shone a bright red.  Her clothes had been unceremoniously tossed into the fireplace to burn.  She stepped from the shower and threw on a simple bathrobe, plaiting her hair into a French braid.  She needed to keep her hands busy.

            Tossing on an oversized jersey, compliments of her cousin, and a pair of shorts, she left the bathroom, hugging herself about the waist in a method of protection against the things she had seen.  Snape had better be damn grateful.  

            Upon entering the room, she was confronted with the sight of both Harry and Ron staring transfixed at the bottle she'd left on the table.  She hadn't even bothered to look at it in the rush to purge her body of the things it had seen.  She took the opportunity to examine it now.  The jar was filled with a utopic* swirling of colors; greens collided in perfect harmonies with reds, and blues and created colors she had never named.  Blacks and whites swirled together into beautiful greys.

            It was like capturing a rainbow in a bottle.  She suddenly felt a presence of calm sweep over her, something she'd had an enormous lack of since Snape's arrival.  

            "So beautiful…" she said before it even registered that the words had escaped, "I never knew it could be beautiful…"

            Her words seemed to have captured Harry and Ron's attention as they turned to look at her.  They seemed to have been unaware that she had even entered the room, too mesmerized with the essence of Snape's being.   

            "It makes you think," Ron muttered.

            "How so?" She returned.

            "If everyone is like this… how can there be evil?"

            Harry sighed, "I think Snape may be the exception to most of his companions."

            "But what if he isn't?  What if everyone there looks like this?  What if…" Ron paused, searching for the words, "What if nobody ever looked hard enough?"

            Hermione, too awakened by the appearance of all that was Severus Snape, could offer no answer.  The philosophical ramifications could tear her world apart.  _What if evil is simply another shade of this kaleidoscope?  Could even Voldemort look like this?_

            Was everybody painted with the same colors?  Was there so little difference between Voldemort and Harry Potter?  Her head was beginning to hurt.  _Was it really their fault?  _Looking at it, she felt an inseverable feeling of hope.  The polar opposite of what the Dementors would have wrought.  Gazing at it, she wanted to dance and celebrate all that was humanity.  It made her want to scream from the mountaintops and make her fellowman understand the total and utter splendor each possessed.

            She would never feel plain again, knowing that something like this flickered inside of her. 

            "Hermione," Ron said, shielding his face from the glow and trying to hide the tears in his eyes, "Put it where it belongs.  It… being captive…  I can't accept it… being caged like that."

            Opening the jar, she cleared her mind and incanted the word, "Recursum, " praying to all that she had ever deemed as holy that the spell would work.  To return, to withdraw the spell, as only she could.  She alone owned the precious commodity and only she could set him free.

            The light rose from its container, hovering hesitantly in the air before shooting in a luminous streak into Snape's skull.  The man jerked violently before blinking once, then twice, before his form seemed to fold in on itself.  The three waited with an unmatched apprehension.  Nobody dared to move in fear of disturbing the silence that enraptured them all.  Slowly, as though it caused him great pain, the feared potion's professor rose to his feet. 

            "Leave me be, Miss Granger" Snape uttered before collapsing onto the floor.

            It had worked.

Author's notes-  As you can surmise, I wasn't too eager to stay in the angsty territory forever.  The next chapter will be up on Monday.

*Yes… I'm sure all you English majors are ready to crucify me right now.  I know that utopic is not a word in the English language.  However, I couldn't think of another word that could aptly describe what I thought needed to describe this image.  So, for the purposes of this story:

            utopic-adv. (y -t -p k) belonging to, as, or like a utopia; perfect.   


	3. Questions

Mephistopheles

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 3~  Questions 

            After moving the professor to her parents' room, Harry and Ron departed, leaving Hermione with the professor.  She'd slept for a few hours before awakening as from a nightmare, although, essentially it had been one.  After brewing a pot of coffee, she'd settled on the couch to watch the morning news as she perused the paper.  

            A distinct thump resounded from the stair, and she knew that she would be faced with the glorious wrath of her former professor.  It was odd how she would consider that a comfort.  

            Severus Snape made his second debut into the living world looking more haggard than she had ever seen him.  She wasn't used to seeing him as anything but immaculate.  His hair was awry and his clothing was anything but presentable.  He looked at her for a moment, seemingly confused as to his surroundings.      

            "Coffee?" He asked; she'd never heard sweeter words.

            "In the kitchen, second door on your right." She said as nonchalantly as possible, trying to mask the joy she felt.  This was no longer a mindless zombie.  This was her former professor… emotion was to be avoided.  It was the only way to make him comfortable.

            She heard him stumble his way through the kitchen.  Mirthfully, she thought, _I probably should have told him where the mugs are_, but dismissed the idea when he re-entered the room with a steaming cup of nature's goodness.  He sat at the table, as far away as the room would allow, and silently watched the news with her.

            "May fifteenth?" He questioned.

            "Only two weeks, professor."

            "Two weeks since when?"

            "Since…" Two weeks since what?  Since everything about him had been removed from his body in some sort of demented lobotomy?  That thought spurned a remembrance of a song she recalled an uncle singing.  Something to the effect of, "I'd Rather Have A Bottle In Front of Me Than A Frontal Lobotomy*;" she couldn't agree more.  She suppressed the laughter from the memory. "You're disoriented, Professor," she said, rising from her roost on the couch. "Have another cup and we can talk.  Are you hungry?"  

            He nodded; she gauged his response to be that of a child waking from a nightmare: for the most part, it was the truth.

            "Would you like some eggs, Professor Snape?"  She asked, hoping some food would further snap him from his bewilderment. "Perhaps some pancakes?  Waffles?"

            "Eggs are fine," he replied.

            "Bacon, ham, or sausage?"

            "Bacon."

            "Toast, bagel, English Muffin?"  She questioned yet again.

            "Toast," he responded shortly.

            "Marmalade or no?"

            "Marmalade!"  He snapped, "Merlin, girl, just get me breakfast!"

            She mumbled, deliberately loud enough for him to hear, as she went to the kitchen, "Gods, just trying to make you comfortable and you go and throw it in my face.  Better hope I don't poison it, you ungrateful..."  However, the god-for-honest truth was that she was glad he was being so snarky.  At least she knew he had his personality back.  The fact that his free will was back was a given; after all, he'd spoken last night and gotten out of bed this morning without her say-so.

            She busied herself with the task of making breakfast.  She'd made it for her parents enough, the pair of them didn't get off with even toast if she wasn't home to make it for them.  There wasn't any pudding but she didn't think he would mind too much.  

            Upon finishing the preparation of the meal, she carried the plates to the table Snape was sitting at.  Placing one in front of him, she set her own opposite his and began to eat.  Snape seemed to be enamored with the television.

            "I don't understand…" he uttered.  The words were that of which she never thought she would hear from the man.

            "I wish I didn't have to explain it to you," she said after taking a bite from her food.  She wasn't sure if he was talking about the television or the situation.  The latter seemed most probable. 

            "Try," he dared, not even bothering to touch his own.

            "You know, Professor," she said.  "You just don't remember.  You're confused."

            "I'm hardly the confused one here!" He scoffed.  That was the Snape she knew.  

            "Then tell me how you wound up in my house!"  She snapped back with equal ire.  With that, Snape fell silent.  He peered down at his food, then took the fork and began to eat.  Silently, she thanked the deities.  An angry, bitter, resentful, mean Snape she could deal with.

            Taking a sip of coffee, she asked, "What's the last thing you remember?"

            The man paused before saying, "I don't wish to discuss this with you."

            "Unfortunately," she sighed, "that doesn't matter." He shot an evil glance up before she continued, "The fact is, I'm the only person who can help you and vice-versa." 

            "Why would I need your help?" He questioned.

            "Because you need to find Dumbledore and I'm the only person who can help you do that." She replied.

            "Why do you need my help?" He asked as though he were eager to turn the tables.

            She took a second to weigh her response before settling on honesty, "Because I need to find him, too."

            "Why?"  The question reminded her of the dozens of times she'd asked herself the same over the past few days.

            She tried to force the tears back and her jaw from chattering but to no avail, "I just need to ask him some questions."

            Snape, in what could have been the most tactful move of his lifetime, let the subject drop.  He fixed his eyes to the television again and resumed eating.  Hermione stood up and walked to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on her face.  She knew why she unexpectedly and desperately needed to see Dumbledore.

            She needed to know exactly what she saw in the Department of Mysteries… and how such an atrocity could come to pass.

            After resting her head against the mirror for several minutes, she returned to the living room.  Snape sat in silence, eating his food.  She quietly removed her meal from the table, no longer hungry.  God, why had she thought having Snape whole would solve her problems?  It had only served to pose more questions.  Questions she was afraid to find the answer to.  

            As she set upon the task of cleaning her dishes, a voice rang from behind her, "You wanted to kill me."

            "Name one student who hasn't," she mumbled.

            "I vaguely remember," he drawled, ignoring her comment, "you saying something about a mercy killing."

            "I didn't want you to be as you were," she responded as honestly as possible.  "As you can see, I took the best option available to me."

            "Would you have killed me?"  He asked, leaning against the doorjamb, an elegant eyebrow lifted slightly.  

            "I probably would have killed myself first, to be honest."

            "Why?"

            She sighed with disgust, "Killing you would have just made it worse.  You were making me think too much."

            "That, Miss Granger, is something I would have killed to hear you say as a student," he said.  She took it as a good sign that he remembered her name.

            "You aren't my teacher anymore," she replied, turning to look at him.  "You were hardly even a person, Professor.  Your presence… disturbed me."

            "Why?" He asked again.  She laughed internally… this is the man who thought _she_ asked a lot of questions.

            "Because… I couldn't look at you and see the man I knew."

            "And what man was that?"

            "I don't know," she sighed with frustration.  "You weren't anything.  It was killing me."

            "Killing you?" He laughed with his typical sneer, "What?  The pity?  Anger?  Resentment?  Hatred?"

            "No.  I'm not sure.  Maybe empathy… maybe compassion.  Perhaps it was something different altogether.  I don't care to think about it."

            "Why not?"  She realized upon this question that Snape wasn't asking her these questions because he wanted to know the answers.  He was asking her because he knew it was getting to her, the bastard.

            "You know what, Professor?" She snapped, "You aren't my instructor anymore nor are you my therapist.  Frankly, I haven't the will or the desire to answer these bloody questions and by a stroke of luck, I don't have to.  So, sod off."

            He smirked and walked away, his mission accomplished.  She looked at the clock.  The man had been awake no more than an hour and he was already driving her crazy.  Though, she had to admit, it was better than the insanity his prior condition had been pushing her to.  On the bright side, this Snape would drive her to homicide before he drove her to suicide.

            She dropped the plates into the sink and stormed into the living room, where Snape sat nonchalantly at the table.  "I'm the only person who can help you," she said as though she were firmly telling a child that he could only have one cookie.

            He chuckled darkly, "I've heard that before."

            "From Voldemort?"  It was hardly a question.

            "Don't say his name!"  Snape spat.

            "He's dead, Professor," she said with no little exasperation.

            "No, he isn't."

            "Yes, he is," Hermione said, suddenly feeling like she was arguing that the world was round.

            "He isn't dead."

            "He is, Professor.  Harry killed him." She added, "You were there."

            "Hatred lives in all people, Miss Granger.  It's simply a matter of having respect for its name."

            His words struck her for a moment.  She couldn't refute his words and, shaking her head, said, "I don't understand."

            "When you say his name you are saying the name of true evil, calling the Devil himself.  It is an informality even the Death Eaters couldn't claim."

            "Are you saying that Vol… he had no…" _Redeeming qualities?  Love?  Happiness?_

            "None," he said, predicting the words she could not say, "None whatsoever."  

            "You're saying," she found her voice again, "he was the devil?  The actual devil."

            "Not the actual devil, girl," he scoffed.  "But undoubtedly a person who took great pride in identifying himself as such."

            His words shook her.  Had she truly been fighting the metaphoric Devil and not even realized it?  Did Snape really ally himself with someone he identified as Satan?  Why did she save him?  And here she had been thinking that restoring Snape would put a halt on the questions.  She excused herself from the room to take a shower.  As soon as the bathroom door was locked, she collapsed against it and sobbed silently.

            She'd opened the door for the wolf.  Now she was crying because it bit her.

            Author's notes- Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews.  Not much action in this chapter.  Stay tuned for the next installment.

*This song, "I'd Rather Have A Bottle In Front Of Me," is sung by Randy Hanzlick though, I'll admit, I came upon the lyrics on a Tom Waits fan site.  Apparently, he's a fan of the line (LOL!  Tom Waits?  A drinker?!)


	4. Waiting for Dawn

**Mephistopheles**

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 4-  _Waiting For Dawn_

            The next day, Hermione set out with Snape, hoping to find Dumbledore in one of his old haunting grounds.  Snape was playing his role well, following her blindly and dumbly, whispering directions when no one was looking.  They were already taking a huge risk by being in public but they couldn't risk someone recognizing him and realizing the spell had been reversed.  

            They had apparated to various locations in Africa and Australia, which was a daunting task to say the least.  Long distance apparation took a lot out of her.  It weakened nearly everyone who did it multiple times in the span of a day.  Snape, however, looked no worse for wear but perhaps that was merely part of the act.

            When they were isolated from public eyes, hidden in a small grove of trees, Snape said under his breath, "You look like you're done for today."

            "How are you faring?" She asked.

            "Fine," he said, his tone clearly conveyed that he could continue.  She was frustrated with herself.  It wasn't lost on her that he thought she was only slowing him down.__

            "One more," she replied, wanting to travel just a bit further; if only to spite him.  "One more and we can go home."

            "All right," he said as though he'd expected this from her.  "There's a cabin about fifteen kilometers from the Katherine Gorge in Australia.  There will be some walking but we won't have to worry about being seen.  We can stay the night there."

            "Okay," she sighed, "I'm game."

            "Follow me," he said, taking her hand as they simultaneously apparated.  She felt her body disappear with a jerk and then she was flying forward.  Snape's hand still clasped her own when her feet hit the earth.

            A wave of dizziness overcame her as she fell to her knees.  She hadn't thought about how far away their destination was.  The cabin was not within her sight.  Nausea struck her relentlessly.  Why had she thought she was up for this?  A shadow fell over her; she looked up to find Snape crouched beside her, holding something in his hand. 

            "Open," he said, placing two leaves into her mouth, "Chew, don't swallow the leaves.  It's hardly a potion but it will do for now."

            She nodded as Snape put an arm under her shoulder and hoisted her up.  After taking a few unsteady steps, she pulled from Snape's support, determined to make it on her own.  Her steps became more stable as whatever it was Snape had given her began to kick in.  It had a most familiar taste.

            "What did you give me?" She asked.

            "Only green tea leaves and mint.  Nothing to be concerned about.  The caffeine will pep you up again and the mint will settle your stomach.  You're fortunate Albus likes them around here, otherwise we would lose a day purely to your being… sick."  He said the final word with such distaste that she experienced a wanting to be sick again, just to wipe that snarky grin from his face.

            She briefly considered playing the "Are we there yet?" game but settled upon asking how far they would be walking.

            "Eight kilometers.  Albus set up apparition barriers."

            She nodded and continued to walk in silence.  There were no attempts at small talk.  With his long legs, Snape remained several steps ahead of her.  She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of asking him to slow his pace, so she half-walked and half-trotted to keep up.

            The sun was setting peacefully somewhere in the distance.  The sky was turning from bright oranges and reds into deeps crimsons and purples.  She didn't mind walking in the dark, the moon was giving off enough light.  The sunset had a calming effect on her.  She was glad Snape hadn't made any comments to ruin the moment.

            "Oh Merlin…" Snape said suddenly as he stopped, looking up and ruining the moment.

            "What?"  She asked irritably, "Are we walking in the wrong direction?"

            "The moon."

            She looked up.  The moon looked perfectly normal, beautiful but perfectly normal nevertheless.  "What about it?"

            "It's a full moon.  Run." He said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along the path.

            She put up no resistance.  She knew what had spooked him so much:  werewolves.  His paranoia on the subject was one that could only be attained through life experience.  His experience had been pretty bad.  Despite her fondness for Remus Lupin, she would never forget the terror she'd felt when she had to face him down that night her third year.  Werewolves were irritable, cranky, and bloodthirsty creatures… and they were probably crawling these woods.  

            Abruptly, every snap of a twig, every crunch of the leaves, and every shadow in the dark was cause for alarm.  She and Snape ran as quickly as they could.  If there was one invaluable thing she had learned at Hogwarts through her escapades with Harry and Ron, it was the ability to run at great speeds from danger.

            Or straight into it, depending on the year.

            She refused to derive any amusement from that thought.  She and Snape could indeed be running headfirst into trouble.  Being in the woods on a full moon was suicide.  Neither of them had planned this through and both were sorely regretting it.  Her leg muscles were burning but she tried to push the discomfort from her mind.  She knew they couldn't outrun a werewolf but damned if they weren't going to try to get to the cabin before any began to give chase.

            A howling came from the distance, from the direction they were running.  Snape skidded to a halt and scanned the surrounding area, taking hold of Hermione's hand and turning to a tree.  Upon reaching the base, he bent onto one knee and interlaced his fingers, palms up.

            "Climb," he ordered breathlessly.  She hardly needed further encouragement.  Using his hands as a lift, she felt Snape rise to his feet, pushing her until she grasped the lowest branch and pulled herself up.  She laid herself on the sturdy branch and wrapping her limbs around it.  Looking down at Snape, she realized something.  

            There was no way in hell he could jump that high.

            She dropped her hand to him and shouted for him to take it.  He jumped and their hands met, firmly grasping each other.

            It was then that Hermione learned an important lesson.  Her arm was not designed to hold the weight of a man his size.  The bone structure slipped from the socket with a resounding pop.  She couldn't resist the cry that escaped her but held tight until he was able to grasp the branch itself and hoist himself up.

            Through the blur of her tears, she saw him crawl to her.  With an unsettling agility, he coaxed her to sit astride him and scooted back until his upper back hit the base of the tree.  She would have made a comment about this not being the greatest time for snogging but couldn't force the words out.

            He guided her good arm around his neck and said, "Wrap your legs around me.  We have to get higher."  

            She complied, ignoring the intimacy of the position as he adjusted to let her legs clamp around him.  He slowly rose, pausing only to grasp her derriere and haul her further up his body.  She sighed with momentary relief.  It was easier to hold her legs around his waist; the slight indentation gave some respite on her aching muscles.

            "Hold on and don't move," he commanded.

            Like she had a choice.  

            He moved slowly so as to not lose his balance as he took them the few precious feet higher.  She clung to him, amazed at how easily he carried her weight, until he settled back against the trunk of the tree, letting his body sink back into a sitting position.  She relaxed her legs, letting them dangle on either side of him.

            Snape began pulling on the back of her shirt.  She leaned back, suppressing a whimper as he firmly grasped her injured arm.  "This is going to hurt," he mumbled, leading her head to his shoulder.  "Bite if you must.  On three.   One…"

            Before he even counted two, he jerked his hand, forcing her shoulder back into its socket with a loud crack.  She muffled her scream against his cloak and bit hard.  No sound of pain escaped him, tempting her to bite harder.

            "You said 'Three!'" She accused as she pulled back and gasped for air.

            "You'd have tensed up," he replied smoothly but equally out of breath.  "It was easier to catch you unawares."  

            She grumbled, "When my arm feels better, you may rest assured I'll be using it to beat you within an inch of your bleeding life!" 

            He chuckled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out several large leaves.  He placed one into his mouth for a moment before sliding it out.  His hand slid under the collar of her shirt and placed the wet leaf on her shoulder.  It quickly cooled the burning.

            She laughed under her breath, "Spearmint."

            The crackling beneath them halted any conversation.  Something was coming.  Hermione tensed, despite her aching arm, and watched as a werewolf appeared from beneath the leaves and began circling the tree.  It leaped into the air, trying to get to them.  Despite her common sense, Hermione still jerked her legs up when it jumped.

            Baring its teeth, the creature gave a long howl into the night and continued to jump for them.  It really was a beautiful creature, a light silver coat with a speckling of brown.  She couldn't imagine she'd feel the same way if she were still on the ground.  The werewolf growled fiercely, prompting Hermione to promise herself that she would check the moon cycle in any area they searched from henceforth.

            Her eyes jerked away from the werewolf when a resounding shriek echoed into the night.  It was human, possibly a child.  The wolf ran off in the direction of the cry, eager for the easy kill.  She was overcome with a powerful desire to help the source of the cry and a paralyzing fear that kept her limbs from working.

            Snape muttered, "We can't help them, Miss Granger."

            "I know," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder again.  His arms wound around her waist, drawing her closer to his body to stabilize her.  She took no comfort as the haunting cries continued to pierce the silence.  It was all she could do to keep from crying.

            Unable to sleep, they each withdrew into solemn contemplation in the cool night air.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            When dawn came, the pair decided to move again.  Hermione wanted to put as much distance between herself and the night as possible.  Relocation seemed to be an easy way to do that. She had caught little sleep during the night and doubted Snape had had any.

            After untangling their bodies, they began the descent to the ground.  Snape was remarkably agile.  She, however, felt about as graceful as a hippo holding an umbrella.  Her arm protested the movement as she painstakingly lowered herself closer and closer to the forest floor.  The lowest branch must have been ten feet from the ground.

            Snape told her to jump.  She looked at him as if to say, "You must be out of your mind."  Shrugging, he dropped to the ground and looked up at her, smirking.  She couldn't resist gaping, Snape was a man nearly twice her age and he was jumping out of trees like a ten-year old.  She was tempted to jump from the tree simply to throttle him.  She lowered herself to a sitting position on the branch.  Nope, still too high.  Snape was looking impatient.

            "Jump," he snapped.  "We haven't got all day!"

            She continued to stare at the ground, feeling more and more like a kitten up a tree.  "I will," she said feebly.  "Just… give me a minute.  

            "Not that I need to point this out," he said, "but you aren't being very Gryffindor, right now."

            She'd give him a point.  Preferably a sharp point attached to the end of a stick.  She screwed up her courage and jumped, landing awkwardly on the ground with a soft "Ooof."  She hadn't managed to stay on her feet but had, rather, collapsed onto all fours.  She rose to her feet, stopping to give Snape a disdainful look, and motioned for him to lead the way.

            As fate, that rat bastard, would have it, Dumbledore was not in the cabin.  Small amounts of dust had accumulated from its disuse.  All in all, it was a nice place.  It would have been even nicer if Dumbledore were here but it would do for spending the night.

            Hermione bit back her frustration and said, "I need to sleep before we do anything else."

            Snape nodded and motioned her down one of the hallways.  At the end, she found herself faced with a most opulent bedroom.  Unconcerned with everything except sleep, she transfigured her clothing into comfortable pajamas and collapsed upon the bed.  Exhaustion quickly overtook her weary body and she entered the dream world with open arms.

_            Author's Notes-  First and foremost, I must thank the "Goddess/Beta Kate" also known as MoaningMyrtle whose stories have been "sadly bereft of recent commentary."  I swear, Kate, you keep giving me ammunition!  Let us all give a moment of silence for poor Kate, her children have been home with friends a lot this week because of snow._

_            Kate… we hardly knew ye._

_            Secondly, I'd like to thank everyone for the positive feedback I've been getting.  This is my first serious fic and I'm grateful to everyone who has encouraged me in this endeavor.  Next chapter will, hopefully, be up by the end of the weekend.  So keep watching.  And remember, reviews are the only payment I get for this.  LOL!  If I owned Harry Potter, well, then that would be another story. _


	5. Beneath These Thorns

**Mephistopheles**

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 5-  Beneath These Thorns

            She awoke with a jerk many hours later.  The entire room was dark.  She blinked in confusion.  Why was she awake when she felt so tired?  Listening to the sound of the rain hitting the roof and her window, she deduced the storm outside had roused her.  She settled back to sleep again.  Just as her breathing deepened, she heard the noise that had taken her from sleep again.  It was a voice.

            Snape was talking in his sleep.  He sounded distressed.

            Heaving herself from the cozy bed, she made her way from her room.  The sounds echoed in the hallway, so she followed them.  Upon leaving her room, her eyes were startled by a flash of white light, illuminating the house in a seemingly fluorescent blast before it darkened just as quickly.  Lightening… she prepared herself for the thunderous crash that would resonate after it.  Glancing around her, she was suddenly reminded of her great-grandmother's house.  

            It had been a vast, Victorian manor and at night, the shadows liked to play tricks on her seven year-old mind.  Many terrified nights had passed with Hermione afraid to move from her bed.  The nightlight in her room had only escalated her fear and offered her no protection.  Eventually, her parents had capitulated to her childish fears and let her sleep in their room.  

            _God, I miss them_, she thought.

            Snape's voice only added to the frightening ambience of the house.  She followed the sounds until she found the room they were coming from.  She tried the door.  It was locked.

            Figures that Snape would sleep with his door locked.  She cast "Alohomora" and entered the room.  All her earlier irritation with the man vanished upon the sight of him thrashing on the bed, muttering words she couldn't make out and gasping as though he was running a marathon.  The sheets were wrapped tightly against his naked torso and his simple black pants were bunched in various places.  This man hardly represented her former professor.

            "Snape…" she called.  When he remained unmoved from her voice, she raised her voice, "Professor Snape.  Wake up.  You're having a nightmare."

            The man whimpered, a sound she never thought she'd hear from him.  It scared her.  The idea of a man like Snape being so utterly terrified in his subconscious was unnerving.  She wondered briefly if he was dreaming about the room.  Placing a hand on his bare chest, she shook him.

            "Snape!  Wa…"    

            She found herself suddenly jerked beneath his form, his wand pointed at her throat and his eyes wild and unfocused.  His hand was clamped painfully around her wrist.  Acting totally on impulse, she reached her free arm back and threw her fist full force at Snape's cheek.

            The man grunted, his form tensing for a moment as he squeezed his eyes shut.  She felt him steadily draw long breaths as he hoisted himself off of her and buried his head in his hands.  He was shaking.

            "What are you doing here?"  He asked unsteadily.

            "You woke me up."  

            "It's raining…" he said after a long silence as he looked out the window.  Though she couldn't explain why she did it later, she crawled to his body and gave him a fierce hug.  He turned to her, placing his arms around her waist and reciprocated the gesture.  As he buried his head in the crook of her neck, she whispered that everything was going to be okay, prompting him to hold her tighter.  They both knew it was something she couldn't promise but the words soothed all the same.  

            Tempting him with the offer of tea, they both released themselves from the hug.  She wasn't sure if he was complying because he wanted her company or if he was too shaken to return to sleep.  In either case, the candles were lit and a pot brewed.  Two cups found their way to the table where she and Snape sat, each taking long sips.  

            "Were you dreaming about the room?"  She couldn't help but ask.  He shot her a questioning look and she continued, "The room in the Department of Mysteries… where you were."  At his look of confusion, she asked, "Do you remember where you were?  Do you remember me rescuing you?"

            Snape shot her a dark look and said, "You can take the human brain out of the body and talk to it… but it won't hear you.  You can even poke it and it won't feel it.  You see, Miss Granger, the mind needs the body as a buffer to interpret the signals.  Without it, everything is simply static, so to say." 

            "Do you remember anything at all?"

            "I remember being…" he sighed heavily, "very fearful.  Even after the procedure.  Even more than how you would feel if a Dementor was staring you in the face.  I would not wish that upon…" he paused for a moment, "my worst enemy."

            Hermione knew the name he had held back… Sirius Black.  Score two for Snape in the subject of tact.  She decided to let the subject drop.  It seemed to be something he was uncomfortable talking about.  What he had told her, however, very much mirrored the same way she'd felt during the rescue.  Knowing him as little as she did, she knew well enough that pressing the issue was only going to make him more adamant about not talking about it.

            And, honestly, she wasn't eager to talk about it either.

            "Tell me about the room."

            _Bastard._

            "What do you mean?"  She said, refilling her cup of tea.

            "What made you think I was having a nightmare about this room?"

            She weighed her words and smiled bitterly, "because I've had several myself since it happened."

            "Did you run into Fluffy again?" He scoffed and refilled his own cup.

            "If you think," she said, feeling her ire rise, "that you were just sitting in a labeled jar on a shelf you may rest assured you are gravely mistaken.  It was like walking into the middle of a bad horror flick with a lucrative budget!"

            Snape paused; briefly she wondered if he knew what a movie was.  Then, however, he spoke. "Would you show it to me?"

            "Why ever would you want to put yourself through that?  You don't remember it.  I'm glad you don't remember it…" she said, fighting her anxiety, "because I'll never forget it as long as I live."

            They sat in silence and waited for the morning to come.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Few words had been exchanged between the pair as they returned to her home.  They'd decided it would be beneficial if Snape were to sit down and try to remember every place he knew Albus frequented.  Hermione had purchased a huge map and placed it on the wall of her bedroom, stating that that the only people who came into her bedroom would already know what the map was for.  She'd used brightly colored pushpins to indicate where they needed to go -- red for the places they'd already been, yellow for the places Snape was sure he would be able to find Albus (in the event that he was there), and green for the places Snape recalled Albus talking about.

            The map was covered.  They had a long search ahead of them.  Knowing the Headmaster, she and Snape had agreed that if the man were in hiding it was unlikely he would be in any of the locations marked with yellow.

            But it would have been stupid not to check.

            They'd also agreed that he would probably not be in any of the places Snape knew of.

            But, again, it would have been stupid not to check.  Snape was closer to the Headmaster than even Professor McGonagall; she'd led the first search herself.  The Aurors hadn't visited even half as many locations as Hermione and Snape had marked on the map in one afternoon.  

            Hermione had already sent off an owl to Harry -- his position in the Ministry, combined with Ron's connections through his father, could possibly get them a listing of the places the Aurors had already searched.  There was no point in searching the same place twice.   It would only waste time.

            Since long distance apparition was a difficult thing for anyone to manage, they'd divvied the map by area.  There would still be a good deal of distance between many of the places but she and Snape would no longer be hopping from continent to continent.  Thank Merlin.  The biggest fear hung in silence over the pair, refusing to be spoken for fear of turning their already bad luck even worse.  If Albus Dumbledore was not alive…

              God save them both if he wasn't.

            Snape brushed past her and took a purple pushpin from the case she was holding.  She looked at him quizzically as he examined the map and embedded the purple pin onto the island of Malta.

            "We go here before we go anywhere," he said.  

            If she were waiting for an explanation, she'd be dead before she got one; she knew that much.  He just sat on the end of her bed, constantly letting his eyes drift over to the map and then to the pins he held in his hand.  

            "Do you want to go there now?  It's not like we've anything else to do," she said.

            He nodded and stood.  They apparated from the privacy of her bedroom, Hermione taking his hand as they did so.  Snape had a better idea of where they were going than she did.  She opened her eyes to realize they stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean.  She couldn't stop her jaw from dropping from the beautiful sight, even as the cold wind slashed at her face and hands.

            For how much he wanted to be here, he wasn't looking enthusiastic in the slightest, though she wasn't sure if it was just another part of the act.  He morosely guided her to various cliffs and watched blankly as she'd show pictures of Dumbledore to the residents, listening to their broken English as they told her that they'd not seen Albus.  After she had asked everyone in several establishments if they'd seen Dumbledore, she looked at him with resignation and walked out of what seemed like the hundredth library they'd been to that day.

            "He's not here, Snape," she said when they had some privacy.

            "One more place," he said quietly.  She got the distinct impression he'd left this place for last on purpose as they walked away from the town.  They couldn't apparate without fear of being seen.  After all, Snape was still supposed to be a mindless zombie and she'd seen several people take note of him.  Although, she supposed, Snape did look peculiar following her as he did.

            She halted when she realized where Snape had been guiding her and spun to search his face, seeing nothing there.  He nodded slightly and motioned for her to continue.

            Hermione walked through the gates of the cemetery, suddenly realizing why Snape had been so adamant about coming here first.  If Albus were dead, he would probably be here.

            Whispering instructions, he took her through the massive graveyard until they reached an opulent monument that stood alone along the outer gates, near the cliff.  Unable to help herself, Hermione examined the monument depicting a marble woman looking up at the heavens; two empty plots stood to her right.  She looked for a plaque and found one, covered in rust.  Casting a simple revealing spell, she came upon a name she instantly recognized:

            **Here Lies Perenelle Flamel (????-1994)**

            **Beloved Wife and Friend**

            **"There is one more star in the sky tonight"**

            "Perenelle Flamel…" she whispered.  "She was…"

            "Nicholas Flamel's wife, I know.  The plot to the far right belongs to Albus…" he replied, bowing his head for a moment.  "Curious, though."

            "How do you mean?"

            "No one has heard anything from Flamel since his wife died.  He didn't participate in the search when Albus disappeared.  He hadn't been at the cabin for some time… I'd just assumed that he would be here," he murmured, gesturing to one of the empty plots.

            "Do you think he could be with Albus?"

            "It would be foolish to discard the possibility, Miss Granger," he drawled.  

                        *                                              *                                              *

            When they arrived back at her home, Hermione was surprised to find none other than Harry Potter watching television.  He leaped up from the television and hugged her tightly.  She pulled back questioningly and Harry, slightly embarrassed, took a step back and regarded Snape.

            "Welcome back, Snape," Harry said kindly.

            "I suppose I need to thank you, Potter," he replied with no malice, "According to Miss Granger, you were most helpful in my rescue."

            Harry laughed nervously, "I hate to break it to you, Professor, but you'll have to thank me again."  With that, Harry placed a large envelope in Hermione's hands and told her, "Every place the Ministry has searched for Dumbledore with detailed notes.  I would have been here sooner but…" he trailed off, his cheerful face turning gaunt and pale.

            "But what, Harry?" Hermione asked.

            "The Ministry is in a bit of an uproar right now.  One of the Unspeakables… a new girl…" Harry took a deep breath, "She was in the room… she died, Hermione… the rumors flying around are extraordinary… apparently there wasn't much left of her."

            Her legs buckled beneath her and Hermione felt herself sinking to the floor, dimly aware that Snape's arms were holding her up.  "Was it because…" she breathed.

            "Allegedly, it was a mistake made during a routine check or so they're saying.  The Ministry is claiming to be investigating the matter but according to another Unspeakable, there isn't going to be one.  'Hazard of the job' or some rot.  Fudge _has_ to know what's down there, Hermione," Harry said with all sincerity, "and he's covering it up."

            She felt the blood drain from her face and bile rise in her throat at the implication of all she'd just heard.  "I'm going to be sick," she muttered and stumbled to the bathroom.  Retching violently, she couldn't stop her hand from shaking as she wiped the beaded sweat from her forehead.

            She dimly heard Snape and Harry talking in the hallway but paid it little mind.  She couldn't stop thinking about what she had gotten herself into, the fact that she could have indeed died trying to rescue Snape.  Fudge was covering it up?  Why?  She was beginning to hate that word.

            A harsh sob escaped her as she heaved again.  Thin fingers pulled her hair away from her face as a cold washcloth was touched to her forehead.  When her stomach finally settled, she turned and looked into the troubled face of Snape, who was kneeling on the floor.  He reached an arm and placed it on her shoulder.

            "Hush.  It's all right…" he said as though he were talking to a frightened animal and pulled her into his arms.  She put her arms around his shoulders and let all of the frustration, exhaustion, and tears loose.  

            He sat on the cold tiled floor of the bathroom, cradling her in his lap.  He held her silently, stroking her hair as she sobbed into his shirt.

_Author's Notes- Another night, another chapter! A massively huge thank you to my amazingly fantastic beta, Kate/Moaning Myrtle. Myrtle, you are like a gleaming mortal goddess and I don't know what the hell I would do without you. I want to give a vague thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.  I'm really amazed with the recepetion this is getting!_ ;)

Thank yous!

Lama- Thank you!  And no, I can't type any faster… I meant to take a class in that!  ;)  I'll work on being more consistent!

AnnabelleElizabeth-  Thanks, Liz.  If you want to see the other responses to the challenge, check out WKITT.  I think there are 4 up there right now.

Uvas1013- I hope this works for you!  Thanks!

Lama- I'm working on it, I'm working on it!  LOL! Your enthusiasm makes me smile.  Don't let me get slack on this! 


	6. Confrontation

Mephistopheles 

By- TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 6~  Confrontation 

            She was walking through the Department of Mysteries, the floor scooped and curved as she took each step.  As she entered the Prophesy Room, she was unsurprised to see that all of the clear orbs had turned into disembodied heads.  Mindlessly, she found herself walking to the very room she'd spent so much time trying to forget.  She was following the screams she'd heard in the woods the other night.  

            "We can't help her, Miss Granger," Snape, who was suddenly beside her, said.  His face was blank, his eyes unfocused.  He looked every bit the shell of a man that he had been before she came here.  She didn't find his presence strange.  He followed her in spite of his own words.

            She found the room again.  There was a twisted wooden ladder leading up to the door.  It was covered in a thick, black tar-like substance. The plaque hanging over it had changed to hold an even more frightening message:

            **You will die here.**

            "Unnecessarily blatant, if you ask me," Snape said.  She smiled at that; only Snape could look death in the face and make a wisecrack like that. 

            She shook her head and began to climb the spiraled ladder, all the while screaming at herself for blindly walking into another thing that would obviously get her killed.  She looked up to see how far she had traveled and found herself staring into the night sky, the stars twinkling merrily.  She put the sight out of her mind and continued to climb.

            "Miss Granger." Snape said.  She looked down at him; he hadn't climbed the ladder with her.

            When she reached the door, she pushed it open and tried in vain to remove the filth from her hands.  She was aghast to find the faceless, mangled body of a girl.  It was too late.  The girl was dead; her face was untouched but carried no features.  Lips, mouth, nose, and eyes were missing from the makeup of her smooth, flat face.

            "Hermione." Snape's voice called to her again from below, she ignored him as he chanted her name.

            Enraged, Hermione drew her wand and stormed into the room.  Strong arms shoved her forward into the pool.  Sputtering, she came up only to see Snape standing next to Cornelius Fudge, who was wearing a turban and cackling like a maniac. 

            "You forgot to get his heart," Fudge said as he threw the pulsing organ at her.  Failing to catch it, Hermione watched in terror as the skeletal arms began reaching out of the blood for her.  She screamed.  Her voice echoed and reverberated from the walls until it suddenly became a solid, tangible thing that jerked her from her subconscious.    

            Closing her mouth, she opened her eyes to find Snape looking down at her, worry clearly etched on his face.  His hands were latched onto her shoulders.  The sweet air she gasped into her lungs helped to calm her a little but did nothing for her racing pulse.

            Snape pulled her into an embrace and whispered, "You were having a nightmare."

            "I am very aware of that, thank you," she replied, cursing the tremor in her voice as she wrapped her shaking arms around him.  Tears would not be coming; she'd cried herself out of them earlier.

            She pulled back and wiped the sweat from her face, "I woke you."

            "I wasn't asleep," he replied quietly, gesturing to the map and her desk, which was sporting the files Harry had left and a flickering candle.  It took her a while to properly examine the map in the poor lighting but she noticed many of the green and yellow pins had been replaced with red ones and several more purple pins had been added.

            He'd been in her bedroom for a better part of the night, it would seem.  As if reading her mind, he said, "You worried me."

            She smiled, trying to stifle a yawn.  Snape smirked softly and told her to go back to sleep.  So she rested her weary body against the soft mattress again, taking a startling comfort in his presence.  

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Nothing could have prepared her for the next day.  She'd woken to the bright sun shining in her eyes.  After making her way from the bed, she examined the map again.  The Aurors had searched more places than she had initially thought but it did not change the fact that she and Snape had a daunting task ahead of them.  Dozens of the pins had been replaced with red and several purple pins marked the map now.  It was safe to assume they represented the places they should look for Flamel.  

            After a shower -- she only used baths for therapeutic purposes -- she headed downstairs.  The aroma of bacon and eggs hit her nostrils.  She deduced that Snape had discovered the kitchen and made himself at home.  Funny, she felt like that should annoy her.  Snape sat at the table in the living room, leisurely eating and doing a crossword.  

            "I made a plate for you as well," he gestured to the kitchen, not looking up from the crossword.

            She smiled and with a quiet, "Thanks," went to retrieve her food.  Snape had not only made breakfast, he had also cleaned up after himself.  She sent a silent thank-you to the heavens as she took her plate and went to sit with Snape.

            "What's a four letter word for a 'Witch's feature'?" he asked.  "I've tried everything."

            She bit back the smile that threatened to surface.  This felt so. _domestic_.  She warned herself against becoming used to this.  "What letters do you have for it?"  She asked.

            "An 'R' as the third letter."

            She ran through the possibilities in her mind before settling on one that made her laugh.  At his puzzled look, she shared, "Wart."

            "Wart?  I've seen more Muggles with warts than witches!"

            "That's a Muggle newspaper," she pointed out.

            Snape grumbled about how the Muggles constantly misrepresented Wizards.  She continued to eat in silent amusement, listening to his complaints.  The food was remarkably good but she assumed being a Potions Master should allot him a degree of skill when it came to the precision of cooking.  She flipped on the television and watched the morning news as he continued the puzzle.

            After clearing the table, she plunked into her chair and asked, "So, it looks like we've got a lot of ground to cover.  Where should we start?"

            Snape folded the paper and placed it on the table, "Here."  His face betrayed nothing.

            "Dumbledore is not upstairs hiding under my bed." She chuckled, knowing exactly what he was referring to but hoping to postpone the inevitable.  "I already checked."

            "No," he said slowly, easily catching onto her scheme.  "I need to know about that room.  You have to show me."

            She had been well prepared for this argument and replied, "I haven't got a pensieve.  Until we get one."

            "I was leaning more towards Legilimens."  

            Bollocks, she hadn't considered that.  "No," she said simply.  Sometimes being blunt was the best tactic.  "I don't want to do this.  There's no reason to put yourself."

            "If the room is as dangerous as both you and Potter are making it out to be than it's an issue that needs to be addressed.  I think you've been deliberately neglecting the fact that you have one of the few intact minds versed in the Dark Arts at your disposal, Miss Granger."

            She groaned.  Why did the man have to make so much sense?  "Point and match, Professor," she said, placing her wand on the table.  "Do your worst."

            He rose and moved her wand further from her and stood opposite.  "Just let your mind wander where it wants.  Don't try to force thinking about it.  Tell me when you want me to stop," he finished and drew his wand, casting the spell.

            Images jumped through her mind randomly, her first day of school, when her father gave her a tearful wave as she ran into the crowded schoolyard. the first disastrous episode of cooking. a memory of stargazing from the astronomy tower. her mother telling her a bedtime story. an image of her sitting in the infirmary with Harry.

            That image spawned the memories of the room, both dreamed and real.  She saw herself staring up at the ceiling again.  Another image of her came, falling headfirst into the blood-pool as the skeleton hands pulled her down.  Then she was screaming for Snape to come to her and he came as a shadowy figure, telling her to leave him. Fudge telling her that she had left his heart. an image from another dream of Harry being tossed into the pool by Dementors.the sight of the living hearts floating in the lake of blood.  

            And then it was over.    

            She focused her vision to see that Snape had braced his frame against the back of the sofa, breathing heavily.  His wand had fallen unheeded to the floor.  He was staring at her, shocked speechless.  It seemed she had single-handedly accomplished what no Hogwarts student had ever been able to do.

            "How much of that was real?"  He said carefully after he had regained some of his poise.

            She breathed deeply and tried to separate reality from her nightmares.  "I was never in the pool over my hips and Fudge wasn't there, and Harry was never in the pool. everything else was real."

            He shook his head again in wonder before recomposing himself, "Unfortunately, it's much more than I'd initially thought.  We'll need a pensieve; with your nightmares transferring over in Legilimens, it's clouding what I see."  Hermione looked as if to protest when Snape cut her off, "Not today.  Maybe next week. Miss Granger, were those." he sighed, "What was in the pool?"

            "They were hearts," she replied.  

            "Would you say that they were human hearts?"

            "I wouldn't know, Snape!" She snapped.  She did not want to have this discussion.  "I've never seen a beating heart before!"

            He balled his hand into a fist, "Was it about that size?"

            "I think it was larger but I'm." She reached over and tried to wrap her hand around his to measure, "I'm not sure.  As soon as I realized what it was, I dropped it.  It made me sick."

            His eyes darkened with something she didn't recognize as he examined her small hand wrapped around his fist.  "Most people would hold the same sentiment.  As of now, it most definitely is a dark ritual."

            "Thank you, Captain Obvious," she said, though her heart wasn't really in the quip.  She felt tired and anxious and wanted nothing more than to rest even though she hadn't been up long.  She went back upstairs, hoping to catch a short nap to rejuvenate her.

            Before she could shut her eyes, Snape made another appearance in her bedroom.  He handed her a vial.  "Draught of Peace," he said.  "Harry brought it after you fell asleep last night."

            He left, looking as guilty as she imagined he could.  She managed a weak smile while she drank the solution, instantly feeling like she didn't have a care in the world.  No longer tired, she stood up and examined the map again, praying that her finally clear state of mind would provide her with the insight she needed to figure this latest mystery out.

            She stared at the map, pleased that her typical frustration did not rise.  Unfortunately, that same frustration was often the thing that kept her at a problem until she'd solved it.  She couldn't bring herself to be too terribly concerned about the situation.  She walked downstairs again; she wanted to watch the telly.  The vision of Snape, pacing the floor, greeted her.

            The knocking at the door quickly alerted her to the reason behind Snape's tension.  She found herself fighting for apprehension against the potion.  She needed to be as alert and worried as possible.  With a whispered hiss of, "Sit down and act stupid, I'll get rid of them," she went to the door and opened it.

            "Padma!  Parvati!  Pleasure to see you!" She said, standing carefully at the door.

             "Hi, Hermione.  How's it going?" Parvati replied, letting herself in and followed by her twin.  Hermione was glad the girl still braided her hair, otherwise she wouldn't have been able to tell them apart.

            Hermione panicked.  If they realized that Snape was himself again, the whole plan would be jeopardized.  "What brings you two here?  I'm a bit busy at the moment."

  
            "Oh, Ron just wanted us to drop this off to you.  Pig's on the fritz." Padma said, producing a sealed letter.  It wasn't uncommon for Ron to send messages with them.  Padma worked with Arthur and would often spend time with Ron after work.. And the twins had become practically inseparable after the war.  "What's it about, anyway?  He said it was on some research you were doing." 

            Hermione instantly saw the way out that Ron had given her.  Ron Weasley should be elevated to sainthood.  _Bore them,_ she thought, _bore them out of her house_.  "It's a simply intriguing subject actually," she began, putting on her best Know-It-All face.  "It's about the hybridization and transfiguration of plants typically used in potions in order to make them more effective."

            The girls already looked confused.  Good.  She continued, trying to recite every detail of her first proposed thesis project for seventh year, "You see, some herbs and plants have inherent flaws.  Weak shelf life, complicated harvesting processes, many are even dangerous.  So, using incredibly complex transfiguration."

            ". You don't need to go into it," Parvati said quickly.

            "Oh, but it's so exciting!"  She was beginning to regret having not picked another topic.  The faculty had shot down her initial proposal so she'd had to settle on a simpler project.  _When in doubt_, she thought, _lie_.  "If you focus on the inner core of the plant, since many of them have human characteristics anyway, you have to settle on finding the." Hermione couldn't think of the technical term, so she settled on another term they probably didn't know, ".medulla oblongata in violent plants and alter it to make them more complacent."    

            "The _what_?"  He said.  _Good, it's working._

            "It's the center of aggressive behavior.  Then you need to." 

            "Hey!" Parvati said, walking into the living area and leaving Hermione in the middle of her speech. "It's good old Professor Snape.  Not much of a Death Eater now, are you?" She laughed as her twin joined her in front of Snape.

            "Parvati!  That's cruel!  He wasn't that bad!" Hermione admonished.  Snape sat in silence, a carefully schooled blank expression on his face.  Hermione didn't know how much taunting the professor could take before exploding into a rage worthy of his former status at school.

            "Oh come on, Hermione!" Padma said, turning to her.  "I've been waiting years to tell this ugly bastard where he can shove his potions lectures."  She set her sights on Snape, "You thought you were so tough." 

            "Like scaring people half your age gave you a thrill or something." Parvati chimed in.  "Professor Trelawny saw right through you."

            "Look," Hermione said, trying to keep herself from coming unraveled, "It was great seeing you two and all but."  
  


            "I'll bet," Parvati continued in spite of Hermione's protest, "that you hated her because you _wanted_ her!"

            Her twin squealed and snigger, "Like she would have touched him!  Couldn't get a girl if your life depended on it, could you?"

            "Especially with that nose!"  Parvati chimed in.

            Padma continued, "And that skin."

            "And those eyes."

            "And that hair!" The girls finished together before erupting into giggles that made Hermione want to gouge their vocal chords from their throats with her bare hands.

            Hermione interrupted, "Stop it!  He was a good teacher!  He had to be mean, it was the only way to keep us from killing ourselves!  And now you sit here and have the _nerve_ to make fun of him in my house when he can't even understand you!"

            "Oh, I wish he could!"  Parvati said.  "I'd tell him what a heartless rat he is, allying his sorry self with You-Know-Who!"  

            "What sort of deranged, sick human being would willingly work with Him?" Padma questioned before continuing, "I'd tell him."

            Hermione cut her off, roughly taking the girls' hands and quickly leading them to the door.  "Look, it's been really great seeing you and all but I really must get back to work.  Thank you for delivering the letter.  Good day," she finished, shutting the door in the girls' faces.

            Turning back to the living room, she saw Snape was still sitting in silence and staring dumbly forward.  She looked at him and said, "They're gone."  Snape remained still but the look of quiet fury in his eyes silenced anything she could have thought to say.  He rose to his feet and stormed from the room.  

            When she made as if to give chase, he spun on her.  "Leave me alone."

            She wasn't so foolish as to follow him.

            Author's Notes- I've finally fulfilled that aspect of the challenge (one of Snape's students taunts him while thinking that he's catatonic) and while I'm not totally satisfied with it, I'm gonna let it stand until I can think of something better.  As always, thanks to Moaning Myrtle who caught that I used "Drought" instead of "Draught" which would have embarrassed me.  

_            Kate, you rock._

And now THANK-YOUS! 

_Lama- I know you're never gonna let me slack off.  I just hope I can keep this pace up.  And yes, there is a very valid reason why Dumbledore is not there. it didn't seem right to have him pop out of the bushes later and say, "SURPRISE!  YOU FOUND ME!"  But then again. maybe that's what will happen. you won't know until later._

risi- I can't tell you where Dumbledore is and I can't tell you why he disappeared.  I also can't tell you what's in the room or why the girl was in there.  I can, however, tell you that since you've read the chapter, you already know if Hermione will show Snape what she saw. question is, will she show him more?  LOL!  Thanks for the review!  
  


_sonnybonns- I didn't think I could take the normal route with this story.  I think the parameters need to be expanded in order for the reader to understand it.  It's a messed up plot and it isn't getting thinner.  Thanks for the review!_

_AnonyMiss- Cool name!  LOL!  Yeah. chapter 2 was pretty grotesque but if you made it this far, I think you'll be fine for the rest of the story.  Thanks!_

_Ali- Thanks, I think the challenge left a lot of room for creativity but I'm glad you like it and think it's original.  Lemme know how I'm doing!_

_sweetevangeline- Thanks for letting "utopic" slide.  As an English major (for two weeks but I was an English major nevertheless) I felt kinda badly about making up a word.  As for your question regarding Albus, no. I have no explained his absence other than stating that he's gone and nobody knows where he is.  So you didn't miss anything, that's just part of the mystery.  Thanks for the review and feel free to ask me any more questions. _


	7. Crossing Borders

Mephistopheles 

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 7~  _Crossing Borders _

            They hadn't exchanged more than ten words by the next day.  Almost everything Hermione said was met with nods or silence.  It didn't seem like Snape would get so angered with the taunting of two silly girls.  She didn't want to pursue the issue.  They'd agreed to resume the search.

            They started in Italy and planned to branch out westward from there.  Albus didn't have any un-searched locations in France, Spain, or Germany, so there seemed little point in exploring those countries.  Italy didn't seem like the place Dumbledore would be but blindly apparation from place to place would only serve to tire them quickly.  They planned on staying the night at an inn somewhere, depending on how far they got.

            Ron's letter had proved useful.  It had provided more places that had been searched.  Anything that could narrow down the vast area that she and Snape had to explore was useful.  Of course, that had not stopped her from firing off an angry letter to him detailing how reckless it had been to send the Parvati twins with the information.

            Thank Merlin that Snape hadn't lost it.

            The searched all day, going through Italy and Austria with little encouragement and low hopes.  She knew they wouldn't find Albus today and figured that Snape knew it as well.  Neither said anything.  It would have been redundant.  They continued to comb the continent and tried to remain optimistic.

            As the day wound down, Hermione felt more miserable than ever.  No signs of Dumbledore had been found anywhere.  It was in cold Romania that she and Snape settled down for the night.  He'd been silent the entire day.  It was starting to get to her.  With the help of a translation charm, she and Snape got a double room together.  It wouldn't do for someone to recognize Snape and wonder why he was staying in a room alone.  As soon as they arrived at their temporary quarters, Hermione took a long bath.

            She didn't want to spend more time with Snape than needed.  She felt embarrassed for him.

            Snape seemed to be thinking along the same lines.  As soon as she'd changed into her nightclothes, Snape went into the bathroom and remained there for a long time.  Hermione tried to watch the television but she couldn't understand anything that was being said.  She left it on for the background noise.  

            When Snape returned, clean and ready for sleep, Hermione dared herself to speak.  "How are you doing?"

            "If you're wondering if your little friends hurt my _feelings_, you may rest assured that I am too heartless to care," he sneered.

            "Just because they aren't here doesn't mean you can take it out on me!"  She snapped.  At that moment, Hermione realized that this would almost definitely end with bloodshed.  Snape's eyes darkened as he regarded her as little more than an insect.

            "Well, I couldn't very well defend myself to them, could I?" He shot back, "It certainly would have put a kink in your little quest to find Albus!"

            She heard her own voice getting louder as she cried, "You need to find him, too!"

            "Only thanks to your self-serving purposes!" He spat.

            "What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?"

            "You brought me back because you wanted to feel better!" He accused.  "Rest assured, I've better things to do than lift the spirits of a selfish, spoiled brat and subject myself to the amusement of her imbecilic friends!"

            "Well, _excuse me_, Professor, if I had known you felt that way I wouldn't have risked myself to restore _your_ sorry ass*!"

            "What risks you took were your own choices.  I wasn't in a state to ask you to do anything.  I sealed myself in that coffin when I was younger than you are now!"  

            "Because you joined Voldemort when you were a kid?"

            "Don't say his name!"

            "Whose name?  Voldemort?"  She saw the fury in his eyes but was too angry to pay it any heed.  "Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Vol…"

            She was cut off as Snape put his hands on her upper arms and pushed her against the wall and held her there.  He hissed, "You would call the devil?"

            "I would call the devil just to _spite _you!" she retorted as she shoved him away.  

            He crossed his arms and sneered, "I'm sure your incredible candor has your parents rolling in their graves."

            The way he said it made her angry beyond her limits.  Hermione wasn't a violent person.  She was mild-mannered by nature.  The only real "fight" she'd ever had was with Millicent Bulstrode.  Aside from that, she preferred to use her mind to resolve conflict.  She abhorred people who fought to resolve arguments.

            Yet somehow, that didn't stop her from hurling a lamp at Snape's head in beautiful, righteous wrath.

            His eyes widened in momentary shock but he quickly ducked out of the way and charged for her.  She reached for her wand as Snape grabbed her around the waist and lifted her over his shoulder.  She took the opportunity to sink her nails into his back and raked down.  He grunted before practically throwing her into a chair, which almost toppled over with the force of it.  He pinned her neck with his forearm and clamped a hand over her mouth.

            "Calm down," Snape said slowly but forcefully as he removed his hand from her mouth.

            "You have no right," her voice wavered with the ire and adrenaline pumping through her veins as she struggled against him.  "You have no right to _ever_ speak of my parents.  Your friends _killed_ them!"

            Snape backed away quickly, shaking his head and breathing deeply; trying to regain control of the situation.  He took a seat on the bed and rested his face in his hands.  With the sudden absence of his presence, she examined him carefully.  She'd managed to get through to him.  She'd won the fight with her harsh words and yet she felt not a bit victorious.

            "I may not have killed them but I'm a murderer affiliated with the Dark Lord, nevertheless.  Even if I did change sides… even if I tried to atone…  I deserved to be there." He said in a serious voice.  "I did more than enough to warrant any kind of punishment the Ministry could deal out including what happened.  You're the only person who seems to think otherwise."

            Almost as quickly as the white-hot rage had overcome her, it left in the wake of her understanding what this fight was really about.  Padma and Parvati had no doubt irritated the matter but it was Snape's inability to understand why she'd rescue him that was making him lash out at her.  "Dumbledore would think otherwise.  Snape… you don't belong there.  I knew that before I even helped you.  You didn't see…"

             "See what?"

            "Your… essence," she said, struggling to find the right words, "You didn't see how utterly… beautiful you are.  I've never… _wanted_ anything like that before."

            He didn't say anything to that.  She doubted he could have even if he wanted to.  He just sat there, staring at her as if to see if she was lying.  Finally, he released the shaky breath he'd been holding and said, "We've a great deal of searching to do tomorrow.  Go to bed, Hermione."

            She nodded slowly and extinguished the lights, waiting until he had settled beneath the covers of his bed.  She felt mildly embarrassed about her confession.  They had both crossed some boundaries tonight.  After making her way to her own bed and settling in, she realized something.

            That was the first time he had ever called her Hermione.  

                        *                                              *                                              *

            A week later, when they had searched all the locations they'd set out to, they returned to Hermione's home.  Disheartened at the failure, they'd each decided to spend a few days to recuperate from the drain.  Neither had spoken about the words exchanged that night.

            Hermione was almost ashamed that she had said something so hateful to him but realized that in the context of the moment, there was little alternative.  Snape wasn't someone to be coddled.  She sensed something had changed in the way he looked at her.  She attributed it to respect for the fact that she could be angered to the point of violence—something she herself hadn't even known.

            There were no apologies, just an unspoken forgiveness on both their parts.  It wasn't like Snape to forgive or regret, so she took his silence as she would have taken his word.  Somehow, his silence seemed more trustworthy and sincere.  

            Now they would have only six continents to search, including Antarctica.  It would take a full day to scout that single location, namely because Snape doubted she could apparate there and back in a single day with ample energy to continue.  She wanted to get it out of the way, though.  Searching five continents sounded easier than searching six, even though she couldn't make any logic of it in her mind.   

            She'd heavily considered doing a straight run.  If she took enough money out of Gringotts, she'd argued with Snape, they could easily put themselves up in hotels along the way.  They wouldn't be sitting around her house and wasting valuable time.  He'd replied that after Antarctica, they would both need a few days rest and the more they stayed away from her house, the more likely they were to be discovered. 

            "In any case," he'd continued.  "If Potter or Weasley are to come upon any new information, it would take the owls days to reach us if we're constantly moving.  That's time we'd be losing, not gaining.  As much as I hate to admit this, we need to keep them posted on our activities… in case anything happens."

            Why did he always have to make so much sense?  Harry and Ron had expressed interest in helping the search but they were far too busy with Auror training.  They didn't have the time she and Snape had.  Best for them to continue trying to find any and all the information they could and sending it to Hermione.  

            She sighed heavily; she could tell Snape noticed even though he showed no signs of it.  She'd ordered some Chinese take out.  The idea of cooking sounded about as appealing as shoving hot needles into her eyes.  Snape, she'd discovered, was astonishingly good with chopsticks.  

            Hermione was appreciative that Snape hadn't asked any more questions about the room.  She didn't want to deal with it until Dumbledore was back.  Harry and Ron hadn't discovered anything new but made her promise to keep them updated on her findings… or lack thereof.  

            She and Snape trotted to their respective rooms.  Tomorrow, they were going to Antarctica.  As she changed for bed, she threw a quick glance at the map.  Maybe she was looking at it wrong.  Maybe there was a pattern there and she just wasn't seeing it.  Pulling a straight edge and a pencil from her desk, she examined the map again.  She sighed disgustedly at herself.  She could play connect the dots all night and it wouldn't get her anywhere.

            Besides, she needed her rest.  She was going to Antarctica tomorrow.

_*Challenge line… I don't like it, either._

_My beta, Kate, may not be Fred Flinstone but she can make your bed rock. _

_Ran- Thanks!_

_Ramos- That characterizations are one of those things I agonized over.  I'm glad it paid off!_


	8. In the Cold

_Pre-Author's Notes-  Since I tend to update at weird times (really late/really early) I've decided to email story update alerts to people if they want them.  If you would like to be added onto this list, you can either email me (at the address below) or simply include your email address in a review with a note to be placed onto the update list.    _

***

Mephistopheles 

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 8~ _In the Cold_

            "I hate this godforsaken tundra.  Albus, of all the idiotic locations…" Snape grumbled as they walked as close to the shore as was safe.  Neither had considered the season and, as a result, they were shocked when they apparated and found themselves enveloped in darkness.

            It was winter in Antarctica.  There wouldn't be sunlight for a long time.  They hurriedly cast heating charms on their naked faces.  It didn't warm her face completely but at least it made the stinging cold somewhat bearable.  Snape just looked annoyed.  She was tempted to tell him that his face could freeze that way.

            It was an agonizing two kilometers to the house.  Why did Dumbledore feel the overwhelming urge to cast anti-apparition barriers everywhere he went?  Snape's normally brisk stride was reduced to slow, carefully placed steps for fear of slipping on the ice.  Hermione was inches from suggesting they crawl on all fours.   

            They held hands to keep steady.  "I suppose it could be worse…" she chuckled as she watched her breath freeze midair and fall to the ground, "we could be mauled by penguins."

            "Hardly," he muttered in a voice vaguely reminiscent of the instructor she'd hated.  "Penguins live in the Arctic."

            "No, they live in the Antarctic," she corrected him.  "I did a book report on them in third grade."

            "What book?" he challenged, smirking.

            "_Penguins of the Antarctic_" she responded and shot him a triumphant grin.

            Snape was about to say something when the ice in front of them shattered.  A huge black figure leaped from the water beneath.  They dropped hands and Hermione stumbled back.  Losing her footing, she felt her ankle collapse as she fell to the hard ground.  Snape had tumbled to the ground as well and was scooting away as the slug-like figure charged at him with frightening speed.  

            Hermione drew her wand and cast a banishing charm.  The creature slid away from Snape and turned its attention on her, releasing a deep growl.  She prepared to cast another banishing charm on the charging animal when a flash of green light struck it causing it to crumble to the ground and slide to a stop.

            "Is it…?" she began to ask.

            "Yes," Snape replied as he crawled over to her.  "You're an absolute trouble magnet."  

            Ignoring his comment, she rose to her hands and knees and made her way to the fallen creature.  "It's a leopard seal," she said, giggling slightly as her heartbeat began to slow to a steadier tempo.

            He moved next to her and asked incredulously, "What could possibly be funny about the animal that nearly killed us?!" 

            "They hunt penguins," she replied, shooting him a satisfied smirk.

            He gave her a toned down version of his Potions Master stare and stated matter-of-factly, "He was obviously lost."

            She couldn't contain the laughter and heard Snape chuckle softly in return.  They joined hands again and rose to their feet.  A burning pain in her ankle caused her to hiss.  

            "My ankle," she said.  "I can get a better look at it when we get to the house.  I'll be fine."

            He nodded and clasped her gloved hand a little more tightly.  Each of them kept their wands out until they reached the house.  Upon entering, Snape lit a fire and searched for Albus, leaving Hermione to tend to her foot.

            She sat on the couch and peeled off her boots and socks, wincing slightly at the movement.  It didn't appear to be broken but she was having difficulty moving it.  

            "He's not here," Snape said upon his return, warming his hands by the fire.

            "Surprise, surprise," she muttered.  The room was warming and she shed her parka.  

            "We should stay the night here, you don't need to be walking on your ankle," he replied, removing his own thick coat.  She could tell he was disappointed.

            "I can keep going, Snape," she stated.  While she had no desire to go back outside, she refused to be the cause of further delay.

            "Don't concern yourself.  I could use the rest myself."

            She knew he was lying but she let herself take comfort from it anyway.  She slipped from the couch to the floor and scooted next to him, placing her own freezing hands closer to the fire.  She wanted to undo the pigtails she'd put her hair in this morning.  It had been a good idea as her hair would have been a veritable frizz-ball if she hadn't; the wind had been blowing it so hard.

            Snape hadn't made any derisive comments on her hair.  She found herself wondering why she cared.  It would be a cold day in hell when she asked him. _On the other hand_, she thought with mild amusement while gazing at the ice outside, _this highly resembles hell… and it is awfully cold._

            When her hands were finally warm again, she pulled her hair out of the braids and massaged her scalp for a minute.  Snape slid over and took her injured foot in his hands.  "Can you move it?" He asked.

            "It's just sprained, I think.  The boots supported it fairly well."

            He didn't look convinced as he slowly rotated her foot with one hand and held her ankle with the other.  It was a nice gesture but that didn't stop it from being painful.  She bit back the injured cries while he examined her foot.

            "You were a dancer?" he asked suddenly, though his tone was not questioning.

            She was taken aback for a moment before slowly replying, "Until I was ten…"

            "Ten?  Unusual to start someone en pointe at that age."

            She gaped at him.  "How did you know I was en pointe?"

            He brushed a finger over the tops of her toes and answered clinically, "You have very strong arches and your toes are slightly malformed."

            "Thanks," she said dryly.  "As if I didn't already hate my feet…"

            He said nothing and simply cast an anti-swelling charm on the injured joint.  He squeezed her foot lightly, "All better," he said, giving her a half smile.  

            Something passed between them in that moment.  The light of the fire danced over his features, making them appear softer.  His eyes bore into her own and she couldn't bring herself to look away.  She wasn't sure that she wanted to.  She could almost see the beauty of his bottled essence radiating from him.  Why hadn't she noticed him like this before?  

            "Your foot should be fine by tomorrow," he mumbled, dropping both her foot and his smile.

            "Yes.  Thank you," she said hesitantly, wondering what had just happened.  

            "You should try and take a nap," Snape's quiet voice broke into her thoughts.  "We shouldn't stay here any longer than necessary."   

            "Would you..." she couldn't bring herself to ask him to stay with her.  She looked down and cursed herself silently for feeling so very much like a stupid little child.

            Without a word, Snape rose and transfigured the couch into a bed.  He gestured to it and said, "It will be best to stay in here.  The bedrooms are intolerably cold."  

            It was odd that Snape was concerned with what she cared about, considering they had been sharing rooms at inns for a while.  She understood, though, that whatever moment had passed between them was not simply an idea running rampant though her wild imagination.  He'd felt it as well.  

            She took the transfigured sofa and curled up to sleep, listening to Snape as he transfigured another bed from a chair.  As they settled into their respective beds, she told herself that this was hardly the time to be fostering romantic feelings for him… but left herself unconvinced.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            When they returned home the next day, no words had been exchanged regarding whatever had happened the night before.  She couldn't get rid of the feeling that Snape was merely grateful and he thought…

            … Well, she didn't know what Snape thought.  The man was an enigma.

            She hoped he didn't think she was acting out of a deranged savior complex.  Snape wasn't the kind of man that took well to being saved.  She didn't want to explore the feelings she knew she was developing for Snape.  She was afraid of the answers that could be found.  

            They'd returned silently to her home.   Snape dropped her hand once they reached the outer layers of the anti-apparition barrier and didn't pick it up again.  Oddly, she found herself missing the contact.  However, growing fond of Snape was something she would have to deal with… growing attached to him on the other hand…

            That would only hurt her.  Snape wasn't a man of moonlit nights and romance.

            _But why not?_ Part of her had argued.  It hadn't been placated with the simple answer of, "Because he's Snape."  _Stupid sub-conscious_.  As if its disturbing images weren't already haunting Hermione in her sleep, it felt the need to plague her during her waking hours as well.  Her brain was really beginning to irritate her.

            They traveled unceremoniously upstairs and plopped themselves down in front of the map.  A single choice needed to be made.  Where should they look next?  Hermione suggested North America because Americans would remember someone speaking with a British accent.  Snape had argued that when they reached Canada, they'd be once again under the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Magic.  Best to leave North America for last.

            He proposed Asia; with the relatively low number of Caucasians inhabiting the countries, Dumbledore was sure to be noticed.  She had to agree, stating that after Asia, they should then search South America.  He agreed.  They finally had a game plan, now they were left to play by it.

            Hermione was soon contemplating the map again with Snape, happy that her brain was again doing something useful.  She was unable to shake the feeling that she was missing something important.  She'd already connected the points incessantly and it left her with no results.  Dumbledore, in spite of many of his actions, wasn't a man of random activity.  There had to be a pattern here.  She'd already tried applying the principles of Arithmancy and came up once again blank. 

            When she found Albus Dumbledore, she'd strangle him.

            Discouraged once again, she went downstairs in search of food.  Snape had, perhaps, noticed her agitation and remained pondering the map in silence.  She'd cooked breakfast again, despite the sun setting in the sky.  She had forgotten to go to the store and buy groceries so eggs and ham would have to do.

            After a half hour of cooking, she prepared plates for Snape and herself and returned to her bedroom.  The sight of Snape bearing a ruler and a pencil as he traced light patterns on the map amused her.  _Great minds…_ she thought. 

            "You're trying to distract me," he said in monotone, ignoring the food she'd brought.

            "I was hungry," she replied in the same tone, "Thought you might be hungry as well."

            He gave a noncommittal grunt, so she set his plate on the desk and sat on the bed to eat her own meal.  A tapping sounded on her window and she was delighted to see Hedwig perched there with two letters.  She let the owl in and welcomed it to have some of her ham.

            Opening the first letter, she saw it was from Harry.  He hadn't found anything of note in regards to Dumbledore or to the room.  She shredded the letter in disappointment.  The second was from Ron- stating the same.  He also apologized for the Patil sisters' behavior.  He hadn't known they would be so malicious and promised not to send either girl again.  

            She shook her head at the words.  She wouldn't have guessed it, either.

            Ron had managed to smooth over her behavior to the girls.  For that, she was incredibly grateful.  Anything suspicious could easily expose her and Snape.  Once again, she was glad that she had decided to take a sabbatical after school.  Harry and Ron were the only people she had kept consistent contact with.  Nobody else thought anything of her absence.

            Snape sighed with great frustration and sat at her desk to eat his food.  He hadn't really made much eye contact, so to speak, since last night.  They'd overstepped their boundaries, even she knew that.  He was obviously well versed in the school of "If We Pretend It Didn't Happen Then It Didn't Happen."  Ignorance is bliss.

            It wasn't as though she was eager to have a discussion of her-- she shuddered-- _feelings_ with Snape. 

            "Are you having any luck?" She asked.

            He shook his head no.  "The man didn't do a thing in his life that wasn't calculated.  Why he should start doing so now is beyond me."

            "Do you think we're giving him too much credit?  Maybe," she conceded, "there isn't a pattern here.  Maybe he just likes to visit these places."

            "Explain Antarctica, then," he said in a voice that clearly stated that Albus Dumbledore was rarely overestimated.

            "Perhaps he liked the penguins."

            He snorted but she thought she detected a smile behind it.  "The seal was lost."

            "And obviously hadn't seen a penguin in weeks!  Months, even!  Poor thing must have attacked us out of sheer desperation."  She sighed whimsically, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye, "It's tragic."  

            He responded with a soft kick to her leg as he said, "I've tried every pattern I can think of.  Mathematical equations, charting them in the order he mentioned them, historical battle sites…"

            "Nothing?"

            "I'm this close, "he said, holding his thumb and forefinger barely a millimeter apart from each other, "to asking you to contact Sibyll."  

            She shuddered visibly, prompting a short laugh from Snape. "You're trying too hard," she said.

            "And I suppose you've come up with something?"

            "No, but I did manage to make a smiley face in Asia."

            "Where?" He challenged incredulously.

            She stood up and took the pencil.  Going to the map, she traced two circles over two red pins, then drew a crooked, curved line through a few of the yellow pins, and topped it off by tracing a large lopsided circle around it all.  She looked at Snape triumphantly.

            "What about the other pins?" He said, obviously holding back the laughter at the stupid looking face. 

            "Freckles?" She shrugged before erasing her drawing.  Snape shook his head at her, wearing his typical smirk.  He took another pencil and stood to help her with erasing the eyesore, muttering that she should have invested in some art classes.  At that, she delivered a playful elbow to his side.

            "Don't make fun of my artwork.  It's bad enough that you made fun of my feet," she said nonchalantly.  After several moments of silence, she turned to look at Snape.  He was staring at her again.  His expression was unreadable.  All efforts of avoiding eye contact went out the window as she found herself lost again in a moment that shouldn't have been happening.

            Not even completely aware of her own movements, their faces moved closer.

            He brushed her lips so with his so lightly it registered as almost a whisper against them.  It was a soft, sweet kiss.  His hand smoothed over her hair and came around to cup her face as he deepened the kiss slightly.  As quickly as it had begun, he pulled away, his face masking itself in a façade of indifference.  

            "Oh boy…" Hermione muttered.  They'd managed to leap over the edge of reason once again and do something they'd been trying to prevent.

            Snape quickly dismissed himself from her room, taking his plate with him and closing the door behind him with a resounding click.  She sank to the bed, unable to tear her eyes away from the closed door.  The clock chimed midnight and seized her attention from the absence of her most peculiar partner in crime.  

            She sighed disgustedly.  She needed to get some sleep before they began their tour of Asia tomorrow.  Moping about for a man that seemed to want no kind of relationship with her was only going to make this quest more difficult.  She changed into her nightshirt and went to bed.  

            When she awoke from nightmares in the middle of the night, Snape had not come to comfort her.

            She didn't want to know why that had only her feel worse.

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**Author's Notes-  Yes.  This is late.  Yes.  I'm sorry about that.  I had tests this week in school and I got stuck trying to change a few things around to make this chapter become more authentic in my mind.  Thanks to everyone that reviewed, personal thanks you's will be posted soon.  And a majorly huge thanks to my beta, MoaningMyrtle/Kate for making this chapter make sense in my poor, misguided brain.  **

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**_Thank Yous-_**

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**_Lama- Hmmmmmm… what could Albus be doing?  And yes, angry Snape is cute.  Thanks for the interest!  Hope you like this chapter._**

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**_Risi- I think it's REALLY funny that you mentioned penguins in your review.  I mean… I've just read it and I'm laughing my ass off.  Thanks for the review and keep letting me know what you think._**

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**_Barbara Kennedy- Thanks!  Trust me, it's only going to get stranger.  Lemme know if you want to be placed on the email listing.  Thanks again!_**

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**_Lee74- Thankees!  You make me smile!_**

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**_Hidden Allusion-  I really LOVE your name.  Thanks for the review!_**


	9. Answers in the Night Sky

Mephistopheles 

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatelcalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 9~ _Answers in the Night Sky_

            Japan had always been a country that Hermione wanted to visit; the sights, language, and history always appealed to her intellectual side.  However, Snape at roughly 190 centimeters tall* was readily noticed by many natives.  He felt self-conscious… and so did she.  Wizards resided in all parts of the globe; they were just as likely to recognize Snape as someone in England, thanks to _The Daily Prophet_ being published in every major country.

            In short, Asia had been nothing short of an embarrassment.  Even with translation charms, they'd wound up so lost they had remained a full week longer than expected.  Luckily, Hermione had the funds to keep them in decent rooms for the additional time.  They'd stayed mostly in suites in order to keep the distance between them.  One night in North Korea, however, the only room available had been a Honeymoon Suite.  One big bed had dominated the room. 

            Snape slept in the bathtub that night.  She had offered to transfigure a separate bed but she got the distinct impression that being in the suite itself bothered him.

            Hermione had returned home, disheartened at both the failure to find Albus and her inability to take advantage of the opportunity to absorb the culture of these gorgeous countries.   Snape had been silent for the most part, hissing quiet suggestions when no one was looking.  He made it a point to avoid her whenever possible. 

            Life within her own household had become infinitely more strained.  Snape seemed off kilter every moment they were alone, which was often.  Every time she caught him looking at her, he would limit his speech to snarky insults or simply not speaking at all.  They were no longer taking meals together, Snape only went to her room when she needed to discuss the map.

            Obviously, pretending that nothing happened was just as difficult for him.  Unfortunately, it was the only option.  The current situation did not leave room for a romance.  Exploring Snape's sensitive side was the last thing on her agenda-- shortly after death.   Hermione refused to picture what life could be like with him.  He was an arrogant, conceited man who had temporarily captured her affections, nothing more.

            Yet, she couldn't help but believe that there was more.  

            It wasn't until the end of June that Hermione and Snape rested in the outskirts of Brazil.  Another continent had been searched and Dumbledore was still nowhere to be found.

            Hermione found herself beginning to hate the man.  She was hungry, tired, and stuck with Snape.  God help Albus Dumbledore when she found him. 

            She and Snape had been unable to find a suitable place to rest for the night and settled on conjuring a tent and cots to pass the night in.  Tomorrow, they would go back to her home and prepare for searching Africa, Australia, and then North America.  North America was their last stop and both were afraid to go there.  They were afraid of being found… of what they might find… or what they might not find. 

            In the event that nothing was on the continents, they could always search the islands, she told herself.  It did not succeed in lifting the weight of their failures.  

            Pushing that thought away, she offered Snape a sandwich from her backpack.  He accepted, devouring it with more dignity than she felt she could muster.  They hadn't had the opportunity to eat all day so she was feeling particularly ravenous.  The meal was topped off with a few glasses of Sangria, purchased at a local shop before they made camp.  The sweet wine helped to soothe her frazzled nerves.

            They'd kept a careful distance between them but were finally coming back into a comfort zone with each other.  Snape was making a moderate effort to be less of a prick, which in her mind was a huge accomplishment.  Since they'd begun searching South America, he'd vacillated between being somewhat friendly with her and then, moments later, being a bastard of magnificent proportions for no apparent reason.  

            After eating, Snape lit a fire to protect them somewhat from the cold air.  With nothing to mediate the temperature, she was quickly shivering once the sun set.  There was no worry of werewolves this time.  They'd consulted the moon cycle and had nothing to fear.  

            Hermione contented herself to stargazing.  With no light polluting the sky, the stars were incredibly bright.  From this hemisphere, she saw constellations she didn't often have a chance to see.  

            "What are you doing?" Snape's voice cut through the darkness.

            "Looking up," she replied lazily, not bothering to find exactly where his voice was coming from.  "The stars are beautiful tonight.  You can see Centaurus and the Southern Cross.  You can't see those in England."  She heard him scoff at her quietly but decided to pay him no mind.  She smiled- being ignored was just the sort of thing that irritated a man like Snape to no ends.  That much was evident in his teaching style.

            He could ignore her all he wanted but heaven forbid that she give herself that luxury.

            "Miss Granger, the constellations are the equivalent of Connect-The-Dots for morons.  I don't see how anybody could seriously…" he continued to mutter while he sat down next to her.  She barely managed to hide her grin as Snape, as predicted, went out of his way to not be disregarded.  Unexpectedly, the wheels in her mind began turning as she contemplated the night sky.

            "You're right…" she whispered as she squinted slightly.  "You're absolutely right."

            "Of course, I'm right.  Astronomy should have never been introduced to the curriculum."

            "Look," she said, pointing to the sky.  "There's Apus, Octans, Chamaeleon, Volans… Oh, why didn't I see it before?"

            "You said so yourself.  You can't see them in England," he replied irritably, dismissing her without a second thought. 

            "No, Snape!  The points on the map, I'd swear they match up with the stars!  It seems just like the sort of thing Albus would do!"

            She turned and looked at him as he turned his gaze to the stars.  "Albus, you son of a… I think you're right," he said.  It wasn't often that Snape admitted that someone other than himself was right, a small victory for Hermione.  

            "We know where to look now!  Snape, we did it!  We can really find him now!" She beamed.  Her joy seemed to be contagious and Snape managed the first real smile she had ever seen on him.  Elated at the first real progress they'd made, she leaned over to kiss his cheek when he unexpectedly turned his head to address her again and her lips touched briefly on his.  

            She pulled away quickly, ducking her head down as she sat up.  This had been what they'd both been avoiding.  This was what they had been pretending never happened.  This was what would fall apart once Dumbledore was found.

            This was what would hurt her.

            She muttered a faint apology as she began to rise, desperately wanting the distance that had been serving them both so well.  Snape's hand upon hers stopped the ascent.  Daring to look at him, she wanted to kiss him again.  She wanted him to hold her while she fell asleep.  She wanted dozens of things, none of them she would expect from him… even fewer she would dare to ask.

            Somehow, all of the feelings of loneliness she'd been feeling melted away when he cupped her cheek in his hand.   Their lips met awkwardly at first but before she could pull away he slanted his lips and kissed her firmly.  His arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer as he deepened the kiss, letting his tongue slide over her own.

            She slid her arms around his shoulders, letting a hand tangle in his hair.  Reveling in the sensation of his hands smoothing over her back and clutching at her, her tongue caressed his, exploring his mouth as she hadn't been able to before.  She felt more at peace with everything for a brief moment than she had felt in a long time.

            Then he pulled away abruptly and rose to leave.

            This man was a prime example of what happens when you can't decide what you want.  She knew what she wanted.  She wanted to hit him over the head with something blunt.  He'd just taken the final steps in making the existence of something between them undeniable.  Now he was running from it.  

            If she could understand what he was thinking, it would be easier.  If he would come out and admit that he wanted something to do with her, she could accept it.  But he'd already rejected her twice and she knew a third time wasn't far from coming.  This needed to be addressed now… and if he continued to toy with her feelings, well, there wasn't a jury in the world that would her find her guilty of what would happen.

            "Haven't we been avoiding this conversation long enough?" She called to him causing his figure to freeze.  "This isn't going to be any easier the next time it happens, so we may as well clear the air now."

            "We can't do this, Hermione," he stated.

            "I'm not the one doing it," she replied, satisfied that her voice remained so unwavering.

            He bowed his head for a moment, still refusing to turn and face her.  "It was inappropriate.  But, keep in mind that you… responded."

            "You started it."  She cursed herself the instant the words came out.  He would never think of her as an equal if she threw around juvenile 

            "Are you just going to nitpick the details all night?" he said with exasperation.

            "Well, this is the second time you've kissed me and the second time that you've run as though I had leprosy!"  Silently, she willed him to turn and face her.  This was a hard discussion to have with someone's back.  He did not budge from his position.  She turned away, looking into the fire.

            He sighed and his tall form slumped infinitesimally.  "It doesn't matter who initiated it.  We can't do this." 

            "Then why do we keep doing it?" she asked seriously.

            "I don't know.  I know better but… I can't stop myself from wanting it.  I've been…" he trailed off and she heard him continue into the tent, making the most of the minimal distance.  She knew very well where he'd been, the same place that was driving her to seek comfort in a most unlikely source.  They had been alone in a place with few friendly faces.  Left to fight their demons with no assistance. 

            She followed him inside; he was sitting on the edge of his cot with his nimble fingers massaging his temples.  Taking a seat on the cot next to his but avoiding eye contact, she took a deep breath and spoke, "Pretending that it didn't happen didn't work.  I imagine pretending that it isn't going to happen again will have the same results.  We can only go so far in avoiding each other…" 

            "Yes.  Analyze the situation until you come up with a solution.  After all, I've only been trying for over a month, why shouldn't you be able to do it in a few minutes?" he said with a curious mix of anger and softness.  

            She clenched her hands and said, "You need to figure out what you want."

            He gave a frustrated sigh, "You know what I want."

            "Well, then you need to decide if it's worth it."  She said, "Because if this isn't going anywhere, you need to stop jerking me around."

            The silence was nearly palpable and the darkness lingered over them both as she waited patiently for a response.  He finally spoke again, "What do you want?"

            She let out a breathy laugh, "That wasn't the question."

            "There was no question," he pointed out.

            "Unimportant.  The question was implied."

            "Mine was asked," he replied, stealing the triumph.  "So tell me, what do you want?"

            She sighed at his obstinacy and said, "You know what I want."

            He reached out and stroked the side of her arm with the back of his hand.  She told herself that the shudder had been only from the cold.  Such minimal contact shouldn't have affected her so.  Gazing up at him through tired eyes, she realized that he was once again looking at her.  

            She closed her eyes and gave a half-smile to him, realizing for the first time that night how utterly exhausted she was.  He crouched on the floor closer to her and moved his hand to the back of her neck, massaging the tense muscles.  Involuntarily, she released a loud moan and clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle it.  Snape chuckled and hugged her tightly.

            She felt him shift slightly and his hands brought her down to lie with him.  After he pulled the blankets over then, he positioned himself behind her, curling his body around hers.  She sighed as she felt him touch a kiss to her neck and then let herself fall asleep.  

            She awoke the next morning to Snape's voice grumbling, "What the hell?"  She unwrapped herself from his arms and looked around the tent, the bright sunshine streaming through the canvas impeding her vision.  Rubbing her eyes groggily, she saw a beautiful white owl perched upon Snape's foot, which was poking out from beneath the blanket.

            "That's Hedwig!" She said, sitting up.  "Harry's owl," she explained, though she doubted he needed the explanation.  She quickly coaxed the owl from Snape's foot onto her arm before Snape could take measures to remove it.  She couldn't stop herself from wondering why Harry would message her now.  He knew that she and Snape would be due back in England in the next few days.  What couldn't wait until then?

            _Bad news_, she thought.  _Bad news never waits for convenience._

            It was as though a bomb had been dropped in her stomach as she reached out and released the letter from Hedwig's leg with a shaking hand.  The owl cooed before flying out of the tent.  She opened the letter and was greeted with Harry's bold scrawl:

            **July 5 at 8pm.  ****Oaxaca, Mexico.  Cathedral.**  **Don't go home.  **

            **H.**

_*190 cm= 6'3"  The conversion was used for the sake of being more British. _

_Author's Notes- Finally, after many hours of agonizing over how the story should end, inspiration (*coughcoughKatecoughcough*) hit me hard… in fact, I think she damn near mowed me over.  Now that I know how the story is going to end, I may actually be able to finish it!  GO ME!  Updates should be more regular from now on.  _

_            On a side note, the update list is now up to 4 people!  HOORAY!  If you'd like to be added to the update list, I'll need your email addy **and** a note stating that you'd like to be added- I don't want to assume anyone wants updates, spam sucks.  If, for some reason, you no longer want to be on the list, let me know and I'll take you off.  I got a few reviews with email addys but didn't add them because they never stated that they would like to be added.  Again, for those who don't like posting reviews or simply have nothing to say about the fic, I can be emailed at immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com- Just put something in the header or the body about Mephy updates and I'll add you to the list._

_            It seems that I have (uncharacteristically (*Snort*)) made an error in a previous chapter.  Surprise, I'm human.  DebCQ was kind enough to point out that (in chapter 4~Waiting for Dawn) I made the mistake of assuming that the moon changes by region.  A full moon in England will still be a full moon in Australia when it gets there… despite whatever I think, the moon cycle will not change.  To anybody else who noticed it but FEARED MY WRATH (giggle) congratulations, you are smarter than me.  Deb, this is for you, you're honest enough to point out my mistakes… and that deserves the best kind of reward a college student can give… which is, sadly, only recognition._

_This chapter (along with every other chapter prior to this) is also dedicated to my wonderful beta Kate/Moaning Myrtle (Gee… I wonder why she's moaning.)  Kate catches the hundreds of thousands of millions of mistakes I make before I post anything.  If any of you wonder why I seem to write so well, rest assured in the knowledge that I don't.  Kate understands that I know what's going on… she also understands that sometimes the readers need to know what's going on as well._

_*SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT!*_

By the by- everyone should check out "Teacher, Teacher"  It's SMUTASTIC!  And it will make you hungry… for food, not sex… well, sex, too, but Kate really has a way with food… I dunno if she has a way with actual sex… but she definitely has a way with actual food.  Chapter 13 should go up this week.

**_Thank Yous!_**

****

**_Risi- Sadly, no Snape on a subway but I hope this chapter still makes you smile!_**


	10. Fallen Ones

Mephistopheles 

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 10~ _Fallen Ones_

            There was no doubt in Hermione's mind what had happened.  Somehow, she and Snape had been found out.  She'd figured this to be an inevitability when she first restored him but, foolishly, she thought they would have more time.  They should have found Dumbledore, alive or otherwise, by now.

            _Well_, she thought, _there goes my spotless criminal record_.  She couldn't bring herself to regret what she'd done even though she was undoubtedly going to be spending a little time in prison.  It was Severus she worried for.  He would either be returned to the room or killed.  A dead Snape, she could do nothing for.

            She and Snape stood in the shadows at a careful distance from the Cathedral.  It was closed for renovations, so everyone in the area could be easily observed.  While the letter had been written in Harry's penmanship, they couldn't shake the fear of an ambush.  It wouldn't be beneath the Ministry to commit forgery.

              With the sun gone, they were mercifully obscured within the darkness.  The soft yellow light from the streetlamps failed to illuminate the alleyways.  Snape had his head ducked over her own, his hands clasped together on her stomach.  They both knew what Harry's hurried letter meant but neither felt urged to speak about it.  Suddenly, it was looking as though they may not succeed in their mission and every moment between them had to count.

            Such a great letdown after such a wild success.

            Instead of going home, they began to search Mexico.  It was a difficult task, considering they didn't have the points plotted out in front of them.  They'd made it to   

Oaxaca with little time to spare.  They had planned it that way.  In the event that this was a trap, it wouldn't do to be lollygagging around any longer than necessary.

            "Hermione!" A voice hissed from behind them.  She and Snape turned and stared into the darkness until Harry and Ron suddenly appeared from beneath the Invisibility Cloak.  Breaking from Snape's embrace, she rushed to the boys and shared hugs with both.

            "So tell me, Mr. Potter," Snape said, breaking the group apart.  "Exactly how fucked are we?"

            Hermione's jaw dropped.  Severus had always opted for grace and dignity over more "colorful" language.

            "Take a telephone pole and shove it up your arse sideways," Harry muttered, not seeming to take any notice of Snape's word choice.  "I think that should give you a clue."

            "What happened?" Hermione questioned, trying to wipe from her mind the mental imagery that statement provoked.

            "I don't know," Harry replied.  "All I know is that the Aurors were all told to round up everyone who was supposed to be in that room along with the people who owned them and bring them to the Ministry…"  

            "We bought you as much time as we could, Hermione," Ron cut in.

            "Fact is, they said that if you and Snape weren't there today you would both officially become fugitives.  We told the Order what's going on and they're all behind you.  The Aurors are going to lead the Ministry on a wild goose chase.  Lupin's offering sanctuary.  McGonagall is willing to hide you at Hogwarts."

            "Well," Hermione said, "thank them for the offer but the Ministry is bound to check those places thoroughly and we can't risk involving anyone else in this."

            Ron smiled briefly, "We told them as much but promised that if it came down to it, we'd send you there.  Please tell me you've made progress."    

            "We think we've found a pattern in Dumbledore's locations," Hermione said, "but we need the map…"

            "I've taken care of that already," Ron said.  "With Dad working at the Ministry, I had a little more of a heads-up that this was going to happen."  He thrust a bag into Hermione's hands, "This is everything in your house associated with Snape, Flamel, and Dumbledore.  No point in giving the Ministry a detailed description of where you'll be or what you're doing."

            Hermione could have kissed him but settled on saying, "Thank you, you're both the greatest.  You'd best get back to the Ministry before you're missed."

            Harry and Ron looked at each other for a long moment.  "No," Ron finally said.

            Hermione was about to speak when Harry cut her off.  "Hermione, we've done everything we can at the Ministry; We're only _training_ to be Aurors.  We don't have enough status to be useful.  We're coming with you.  The real Aurors are doing what they can."

            "Besides," Ron added, "searching with four people is a lot easier than searching with two… and since you aren't there today, the Ministry is bound to be looking for _us_ to tell them where you've gone.  We're in this, Hermione, whether you like it or not.  Just let us help you."

            "Hermione, I think that your friends," Snape said after having been silent for so long, "may have a point."

            She sighed.  Having the boys caught up in this more so than they already were wasn't what she'd wanted by any stretch of the imagination.  She nodded in defeat and said, "Okay, we are going to have to find a place to hole up in until we can pinpoint the most likely places Flamel and Dumbledore are.  Lupin's is out and so is Hogwarts.  Our best bet is to find a hotel or something and stay the night."

            "Taken care of," Harry said, tossing a set of keys to her.  "Teotihuacán.  We even had a local Muggle girl get the rooms for us, so there's little chance of being traced to there."

            "Rooms?"

            "It's a suite, actually.  Two bedrooms and a dining area.  We've also emptied your vault at Gringotts along with both of our own before the Ministry could freeze the accounts.  Better safe than broke."

            She smiled.  It was good to know that her friends were watching out for her.  She'd been worried about the money in her account since Harry's letter arrived, it was the bulk of her money.  She'd tucked some away in a Muggle account but knew it wouldn't be hard for the Ministry to find it.  If she had attempted to withdraw any cash…  the Ministry would know exactly where she was and if they seized it, she and Snape would have nowhere to hide and no money to do it with.

            She hoped they wouldn't regret it when they were rotting in Azkaban together.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            The hotel Harry and Ron had picked out was surprisingly nice.  The master bedroom sported a king-sized bed and the standard bedroom furnishings.  The small desk, two bedside tables, television, and sofa all looked to be in good condition.  She'd placed her clothing and such in that room.  The "guest bedroom," as she had called it, sported two full-sized beds, television, and nightstands.  The dining area had a large table and a kitchenette.   

            She allowed herself to take a long bath, soaking until the hot water lost its warmth, before rejoining Snape and the boys in piecing together the constellations with Albus' known locations.  It was difficult-- some of the signs were incomplete and required many, many efforts at accurately placing them, especially since they had nothing to reference them by.

            After changing into a pair of flannel pajamas that Ron had procured from her home, she reentered the room, which they had dubbed, "The War Room."  The fact that Snape, Harry, and Ron weren't on the verge of killing each other almost shocked her.  They sat patiently in a semicircle, trying to come up with every constellation they could make from the points on the map.

            "I had a thought…" Hermione said, "Do either of you know of any internet cafés around here?"  Harry shook his head while Ron and Snape just shot her questioning looks.  "Fact is, if we can find one, we can easily print copies of the major constellations onto overhead slides and fit them over the map."

            "Hermione, that's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, ignoring the continued looks of confusion from Snape and Ron.  "If there isn't one here then there's bound to be one in Mexico City!"

            "Internet?" She questioned the confounded pair.  They shook their heads.  "I'll explain it to you later, then.  It's more or less a Muggle version of the Wizarding Wireless."

            At that, they nodded.  She smiled at Harry.  Who said that being raised by Muggles never helped anyone?  Harry, stating that there were bound to be some 24-hour cafés, left to find one.  Ron released a huge yawn and walked into the guest bedroom to get some sleep.  She didn't blame him.  Ron was still on London time.  She and Snape had been moving around so much that they were easily able to adjust their sleeping patterns.  With the little apparition they'd done today, neither felt particularly tired.

            She cuddled up next to him, smiling a bit when he placed an arm around her.  Until Harry got back, there was little they could do.  If she were better at Spanish, she would have ordered food.  She settled on an apple from the welcome basket and offered one to Snape.

            "If this doesn't work, I may turn myself in," he said after taking a bite.

            "What?" she asked, wondering if she'd heard him correctly.  
  


            "Maybe I can play that I was restored by someone else and was fooling you.  I'll tell them that I abducted you."

            "No… I don't think you understood me," she replied with more conviction.  "_What_?!"

            He spoke as though he'd rehearsed this conversation in his mind a thousand-fold, "You're already more involved that I would like.  They want me, Hermione, not the best friend of The-Boy-Who-Lived.  Fudge wouldn't risk the political suicide of trying you as a criminal if I made you out to be the victim."

            "Snape… Severus… we're in this together," she said.  "We wouldn't even be in this situation if it weren't for me.  I won't let you take sole punishment for this."

            "Think of your friends, Hermione.  They're only involved in this for you.  You would drag them down with you?"

            She sighed, trying to figure out how to best convey her friend's motives to the obstinate man, "They aren't in this just for me, Severus.  They're in this because they believe that it's right.  They're in this because even if they aren't terribly fond of you, they know you don't deserve to be punished since you helped us.  I've no doubt that if something happened to me, they would still support you.  I'd rather be jailed knowing that I tried than be free because I let them take you."

            "Do you truly think so much of me?" He asked quietly.

            "Yes.  I do," she responded earnestly.

            He pulled her closer and pressed a kiss to her neck, burying his face in it.  He was giving up; she knew it.  Even the breakthroughs they'd had with each other and the map weren't enough to console him from the idea of being hunted again.  Since this was her first time as a felon (if breaking into the Ministry and restoring someone from a dark ritual was indeed a felony), she wasn't sure exactly what to expect.  From what he'd told her about Azkaban, he hadn't rightly enjoyed his stay there.  Even without the Dementors, he'd said, Azkaban was hell.

            "You can feel the people who've stayed there," he'd said.

            She had a feeling that if he'd seen everything of where his mind was kept, he'd think Azkaban was a walk in the park.

            He excused himself to take a shower.  She would have recommended a bath but thought against it.  Severus Snape was a man of habit, changing that only served to make him uncomfortable.  She was almost surprised that she knew that.  She knew that she cared deeply for him.  If he asked, she would probably sleep with him.  But they both knew that would only make the threat of capture more devastating.  It was best to keep their relationship stymied where it was. 

            She knew that if they were to cross that line, separation would only be harder.  If… _when_ they found Dumbledore and cleared Severus' name, they could pursue each other in earnest, if they chose.  _Until then_, she thought as she shot a glance at the bathroom door, _all we can do is wait._

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Harry returned several hours after she and Snape had gone to bed.  When she awoke the next day and walked into the War Room, Ron and Harry were talking.  They silenced themselves as she came in.  She knew what they were talking about.  Harry had without a doubt, seen herself and Severus asleep together when he returned looking for a bed.  She thanked the stars when they began talking again.  They obviously weren't going to question her.

            While she brewed a pot of coffee, Ron spoke.  "Can we get a cup of that?  Harry just woke up, too."

            She nodded, "Did you get the copies, Harry?"

            "Yes," he said, shooting her a lopsided smile and gesturing to where he and Ron had been.  "I had a bit of a problem with my euros but luckily I found someone willing to buy them off of me."  

            They sat together, shrinking and resizing the constellations to fit over the points on the map.  Hermione had, unsurprisingly, been right.  They did indeed match up in almost all of the places.  Some, however, were incomplete and required some speculation as to where the other points would be.  All in all, it was tedious work.

            Snape joined an hour or so after Hermione.  The boys ceased their work and openly stared at him with curiosity.  He responded with a look that dared Ron and Harry to question him.  The pair quickly went back to work.  Hermione sighed with relief.  They weren't going to question Snape either.  Of course, this was hardly the time for the boys to criticize her romantic interests.  There was too much at stake.

            Snape conjured three perfect copies of the map they had.  The map was too small for the four of them to work without crowding each other.  She had the distinct impression that he felt crowded enough.

            They worked separately, trying to fit the clear sheets of plastic over the points.  By lunchtime, they'd only managed to get five locked in.  That left a huge number of other places that were unaccounted for according to her theory.  She refused to believe that the five they had locked in were merely coincidence.  Everyone else seemed to agree with her.

            Five days and five hotels later, they had not managed to make any progress of note.  Two more constellations had been painstakingly placed and that left dozens of pointed unaccounted for.  Severus, in a moment of absolute brilliance, asked for a celestial sphere* and a globe.

            Hermione armed herself with Muggle makeup to disguise her appearance.  She'd dyed her light brown hair into a deep mahogany and shaded her face to distort her upturned nose and high cheekbones.  She was unconvinced that the change was substantial but shocked looks from Harry, Ron and Severus alike told her that she looked different enough.  She went to a local wizard's shop to procure both requested items.  The globe was what she would have considered standard except for the borders and names of the countries changing according to the times.  

            The sphere, however, was nothing short of a work of art.  The huge glass bauble, which could have fitted at least four globes within it, had needed to be shrunken and protected with an unbreakable charm before she took it anywhere.  The beautiful clear glass shone black as night with only a word and the stars within it twinkled with a clarity she hadn't seen since that night in Brazil

            Like a dutiful servant, she brought the supplies back to Snape and received only an absent-minded grunt in return.  He scrutinized both items for a lengthy period of time before giving her a short nod of approval and an inconspicuous slant of his lips.  Without a word, he cleared the table and began casting an intricate series of charms. The points on the map were instantly copied onto the globe in little silver specks. 

            Severus picked up the globe and pushed it into the celestial sphere, the surface of the delicate glass rippled like water as it engulfed the model.  The globe hovered in the center of the orb, he used both shaking hands to manipulate its position.  With a whispered word, the glass darkened to swirling gray and lines connected the stars as he continued to turn the globe.

            Gasps were shared by Hermione and her friends as suddenly all the points on the globe illuminated into a brilliant white.  With another word, the globe dropped and crashed through the glass sphere before meeting the floor.

            The tinkling tintinnabulations** of broken glass colliding with the cold floor and their collective breathing were the only sounds that inhabited the room.  Slowly, Hermione dared herself forward to examine the globe.  Lifting it to the light, faint outlines of each constellation could be seen.  She turned to the boys and Severus, who was leaning against a chair, and grinned.  In one fell swoop, everything had been accounted for.  If only that had thought to do this earlier.  

            She held up the globe for the group to see.  Harry and Ron stared with looks of delight and dismay as they realized that there was much more ground to cover.  Severus approached to scrutinize the new map. 

            Ron sighed and rubbed his neck, "So where should we go first?  There are more places than ever."

            "Here," Snape said, pointing to a small group of islands.  "Crux...  The North Star."

*The celestial sphere (while horribly outdated) is still used to an extent today.  It follows the idea that all stars rest on a blanket, if you will, that encompasses the earth (think of taking the earth and enclosing it within a ball, stars would be on the inside of the ball and facing the earth.)  People thought this was true because stars did not seem to move in relation to each other… then it was learned that stars were actually millions/billions/whole bunches of miles away.

** IT'S A WORD, I DIDN'T NEED TO CREATE IT!  Read Edgar Allen Poe, he rocks… or rocked… whatever applies.

Author's Notes- To anyone who requested to be on the update list but are not… rest assured that it is merely human error… not some sort of vendetta.  If  you wanted to be on the update list and-- for some reason, aren't-- rest assured that I'm just silly.  Email/review me again and I'll try better.  I'm still new at this thing.

WOO HOO!  After more days without power than I wish to remember (damn you, weather god)  the Electricity god has chosen to bless me and my roommate again!  Bless you, power God!  A HUGE thanks to Kate/MoaningMyrtle for making this story readable.  Kate, you are my shining star and I don't know what I'd do without you… well, actually, I do.  I'd probably suck… honestly… I'd probably suck if I didn't have Kate to catch my mistakes… you'd all be like, "What?!" and I'd be all like, "You'll understand later!"  Kate, I love you.  If we were both gay, I'd SOOOOOOO marry you… but we're both straight, so I guess I'll go back to my boyfriend and you'll go back to your husband.  So I'll leave you with this:

            "I'll be watching you," person 1.

            "That's illegal," Person 2.

10 points to whomever can name where those quotes came from.

To those who happen to be enjoy angst/fanfiction that doesn't blindly make you smile, I suggest checking out April Grey's piece, "Calling Dr. Granger."  It's a nice story, even though it isn't exactly for the light of heart.  I told myself that I was going t plug this story after I read her AN about losing readership (especially after I experienced the same.)

Read everything.  It's good for you.   

BTW!- SailorSpectra, I need your email address to add you to the update list.  I checked for it and couldn't find it.  I'll try to message you… but I need your email addy to add you.  Thankees!  

Personal thank-you's will be in the next chapter… sorry, I'm tired. 


	11. Deep Waters

Mephistopheles 

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 11~ _Deep Waters_

            As it happened, the Southern Cross was placed perfectly over the Galapagos Islands.  Hermione felt elated.  Certainly, if there were a place that Albus Dumbledore would travel to, it would be these islands.  Even Darwin had been enthralled by the essence of life that seemed to emanate from this tiny group of land… surely Dumbledore would have felt the same.  

            They let Harry pay the bill for the room and apparated immediately with their belongings.  They didn't want to stay in one place any longer than necessary but were still careful to not leave any trace of having been there.  Everything had been scrubbed and sterilized for fear of the Ministry somehow tracing them to this location, as unlikely as that was.  They were still wanted fugitives.  

            When they arrived at Barrington Island, their first stop, Hermione was overwhelmed by the plethora of iguanas.  They seemed to be everywhere.  She couldn't help but smile; she'd wanted an iguana when she was eight but her parents had denied her.  She was already enough of a tomboy, they'd said.  

            It was little wonder that these islands were considered sacred treasures.  The flora and fauna were unlike anything Hermione had ever seen.

            They'd thoroughly searched the island before moving onto Santa Cruz.  There was nothing there of note, either.  They could see the island of Rábida.  Since it was early, they decided to explore the island before calling it quits for the day.  Together, they stood on Santa Cruz's west beach and focused on the mass of land and apparated.

            Hermione felt the usual sensation of her body flying forward… but then experienced a sensation she likened to having a brick wall thrown at her.  

            If she could have screamed, she would have…  but she seemed to have lost the ability to breathe.  Her momentum threw her backward at a fearsome speed and she lost the ability to control her movement.  Everything whirled by her in a frenzy of manic color.  She lost her bearings… she no longer had any idea as to where exactly she was.  Unable to think of a safe course of action, she panicked and ended the spell.

            She slammed into something that stung her back and felt her body engulfed by something very cold… and she was floating.  Opening her eyes, she realized that she was underwater, salt water.  Even though her eyes burned, she did not dare to risk shutting them.  She couldn't see the sun; she couldn't see much of anything, save for faint outlines of rocks.  She didn't know which way was up.  Fortunately, her wand still remained in her hand.  She focused her energy and tried to apparate again.  When she called the spell, however, nothing but unintelligible bubbles came.

            This was definitely bad.

            _Air rises_, her brain kicked in after the initial shock.  She used what air she could spare and blew a small bubble and felt it trickle over her numbing chin and cheek.  Righting herself and kicking off her shoes, she swam for what she hoped was air.  Her clothing was dragging against the water, slowing her progress.  She quickly undid her blouse and pants, uncaring of her partial nudity, and freed herself from the confinements.  Her lungs were burning and heaving for air but she fought the overwhelming urge to breathe, knowing that it would kill her.

            Like a beacon, she saw light breaking into soft white fragments through the water.  Her lungs felt swollen and she had to release more air than she had as she swam for the surface.  The light became brighter until she could make out the orb of the moon itself. 

            _The moon?  But it's daytime…_

            Her arms and legs were in excruciating pain—the only sensation she could feel through her deadening nerves was pain-- but she kept going, the need for oxygen outweighing her discomfort.  

            She broke the surface and gasped, sputtering and coughing.  Her greedy lungs took in breath until her head felt like it would float from her shoulders.  After satisfying the most basic need of her existence, she surveyed the area.  Water.  Lots of water and no land that she could see.  She had no idea what had happened but couldn't force herself to get excited at the prospect of apparating again.  Her eyes felt like they had been replaced with hot coals and she could barely move her legs… she wasn't exactly looking forward to something possibly going wrong again.

            However, she knew that she was in salt water and she knew that sharks also resided in salt water… along with a wide, nasty array of creatures she didn't want to run into.  She wasn't afraid of aquatic life when she was swimming within a mile or so of a shore but this open water held far too many secrets for her to feel comfortable.  She prayed that whatever had happened wouldn't happen again and apparated despite her fatigue.

            Soon enough, she was safely on the island from which they had departed.  She dropped in a graceless heap onto the ground, her legs unable to hold her up.  She felt the sand on the beach sticking to her wet skin.  An unwelcome thought passed through her weary mind, _What if the others aren't here?  What if I'm the only one this happened to?  What happened?_  

            Her head hurt and the metallic scent of blood flooded her dripping nose.  Dimly aware, she wiped her hand across her face and examined it.  Her nose was bleeding.

            Hermione seldom suffered from nosebleeds; she couldn't even remember the last time she'd had one but couldn't bring herself to care.  She was alive and, not for the first time in her short life, felt that was a huge accomplishment on her part.

            "They could be anywhere, Snape!" Harry's distant and garbled voice sang like music in her ears.  Willing herself to force her voice, she called weakly to them.  

            She heard them call back but couldn't make her voice sounds louder than an unintelligible squeak.  Within minutes, Harry appeared.

            "Snape!  She's over here!" Harry called.  He rushed over to her and crouched onto the ground, pulling her limp figure into his weak arms.  "Are you okay?" he asked.  She nodded, unable to trust her voice to convey her health.  He seemed unabashed by her half-naked state… but then again, there was too much blood on his face to discern any sort of embarrassment. 

            Harry looked as though he had been thrown head first through several sheets of glass.  Thick red blood coated his unusually white face along with several gashes and he wasn't wearing his glasses.  Severus appeared shortly thereafter and looked as though he'd confused a gravel road with a Slip 'n Slide; his shirt and pants were nearly shredded in some areas.  She could see bits of rock embedded in his bleeding skin as he bent next to her. 

            Dirty, bloody, and broken they were still the most welcome sights she'd ever beheld.

            "Are you all right?"  Severus asked.  She nodded, feeling too weak and lightheaded to speak the words.  Harry lowered her to the sand again and buckled against a nearby tree.

            Severus collapsed to the sand next to her, wincing, and began to tend to his wounds while Harry started to attend to his own.  Hermione balanced herself precariously on her elbows and looked for Ron, he hadn't come back yet.  She hazily hoped he was okay when she bowed back onto the sand as her head began to pound with the tenacity of a thousand beating drums.

            The next thing she remembered was waking in a tent.  She was still half-naked but couldn't make herself care.  The pounding headache had ebbed to a dull throb.  Feebly flopping her head, she saw that Harry rested on a cot next to her.  While his face still carried traces of blood, he had been cleaned and the cuts sealed for the most part… hopefully, he wouldn't have another scar to live down.  She could see the sun through the canvas… it was far too bright.  She groaned and tried to roll over but felt too weak.  Even the shifting of the sheets on her cot sounded like nails on a chalkboard to her.

            "You scared the dickens out of us.  I'm not exactly sure what happened to you," Harry said softly.  She managed to turn her head and suppress the grimace at the noise.  "You just fell down and started twitching… But Snape took care of it.  He said you wouldn't be feeling too great."

            "Ron?" She managed, disgusted with how pathetic she seemed.

            Harry chuckled… the sound was so foul that she experienced an overwhelming urge to tear her ears off, "Oh, he's fine.  Splinched his arm with a branch, broke the other one.  Broke his leg along with it but everything was easily mended.  He landed in a hedge of sorts, it broke his fall."

            "What happened?" She said, amazed at how loud and blaring her voice sounded in her ears.

            "The island is protected by anti-apparition barriers and we ran straight into them.  I had no idea how painful that could be.  I went right through a store window… thank God, the place was closed for the night.  Snape…" he quieted.  Hermione became worried until she heard Severus' voice sound softly from the tent's entrance.

            "I managed to land on a road somewhere."  By God, even Severus' voice sounded grating.  "It was daylight but I'm not sure exactly where I was.  The both of you are very fortunate that you didn't splinch with anything.  Do you know where you were, Hermione?"

            When she painstakingly turned her head, she saw that Severus had healed most of his wounds.  He'd changed into a shirt she recognized to be Harry's.  _He doesn't look half-bad in Muggle clothing,_ she thought.  The skin on his arm was a brilliant red… it looked as though Severus had suffered from mild sunburn as opposed to having pieces of his skin peeled away by sharp rocks.  

            "Underwater…but I don't know where." She replied.  Severus nodded clinically and motioned for her to continue.  "I was..." she couldn't really think of a proper way to describe how horrific the whole experience had been.

            "It is a frightening experience," Snape admitted without any prompting.  Turning her head away from the light once again, she heard his clothing rustle as he moved to Harry.  "Last one, Potter…" he said.  She couldn't catch the rest of it-- he'd lowered his voice so that she could barely hear it.  

            Harry was suddenly beside her, squeezing her hand.  Then he was gone.  She struggled against her aches to sit up but Severus' placed his hand against her nearly naked chest to push her gently back down onto the mattress.  She tried to ask him what he was doing but he softly shushed her before the first word could even escape.  He positioned a vial to her lips and she drank despite the putrid taste of the potion.

            "What happened?" She asked again.

            "You had an embolism*," he replied quietly, absently running his hand over her hair.  "Get some rest, I'll return shortly."

            She asked, "So that's what happens when you hit an anti-apparition barrier?"  He nodded.  "Let's not do that again," she murmured as she dropped off into sleep.

            When she woke again, her headache had vanished.  She stretched her stiff muscles and glanced around.  She was alone.  A clean set of clothing rested on the bed Harry had occupied.  She giggled when she realized the clothing belonged to Harry, who had apparently brought enough clothing to dress everyone.  Obviously, no one, including Severus, wanted to rifle through her belongings.  She slipped on the large shirt and jeans, thankful for Harry being mindful enough to include a belt. 

            She hesitantly walked into the sunshine outside the tent, grateful that her eyes no longer burned.  The idea that she had very nearly died weighed heavily on her.  Like driving an automobile, apparition was something she did often.  Having something so terrible and life threatening during what should have been routine frightened her.

                Severus, Harry, and Ron sat on the sand.  The boys quickly rose and took turns hugging her gently, as though they were afraid she would break.  Harry looked every bit like his usual self.  The only things marring Ron were thick black bandages around his arm… bandages that looked as though they had once been robes.  She turned to Severus as he rose to his feet.  He made no move toward her but gave her a short nod and an arch of his eyebrow.

            "The bad news is that the island is surrounded by apparition barriers…" Severus began.

            "The good news is that it means this is one of Dumbledore's haunts," Harry exclaimed.  "We may have found him, Hermione!"

            She smiled with relief.  Harry and Ron were grinning like idiots.  Severus gave a quick nod; she knew why he was being so distant.  He'd been alone with Harry and Ron for a while.  They'd probably drilled him for information pertaining to their relationship.

            If you could call it that.

            "We've been debating whether we should charm an unauthorized portkey or swim to the island.  It all depends on you," Ron said.

            She questioned, "Me?  Why me?" 

            "You know, your… thing," Harry said, blushing.  She crossed her arms and nodded her head, silently asking him to elaborate on the "thing."  "You know, your… 'womanly' thing."

            Hermione almost laughed as she calculated the days in her menstrual cycle, she was three days late; she _knew_ she wasn't pregnant.  As she came to her conclusion, she sighed, "Sorry.  I'm not bleeding right now but I'm due.  I know that the amount isn't enough to attract anything but I'm not comfortable swimming in open water."

            The boys nodded dumbly; Ron blushed until his face almost matched his hair.  

            _Boys…_

            Severus looked as though he had been expecting this response but then again, the man had been living in close quarters with her for a while.  He wasn't ignorant enough to overlook the signs.

            "I suppose we could always wait," Hermione continued, "or we could rent a boat."

            Before she had even finished speaking, Severus had already charmed the illegal portkey.  She knew his reasoning; even at this time, he was trying to protect them all from prosecution.  Part of her found it very sweet… another part found it infinitely foreboding.  They all grasped the portkey and were transported to the isle.  

            She found herself surrounded by red sand.  She had an unwelcome memory of the final battle with Voldemort-- when blood had fallen like rain and assaulted the innocent earth.  Quickly pushing that thought from her mind, she joined the others in exploring the small island of Rábida.  Snape had made a comment about the penguins, prompting Hermione to laugh.  The boys looked on in confusion.

            The island was small, so they had little problem searching it... and everything was turning up empty.  They had nearly given up hope of finding Albus when a voice called suddenly from behind them.

            "I've been wondering when you'd arrive…" 

            The four people turned and were greeted with the sight of a very alive Nicholas Flamel.

*** For those of you in the know and those of you not in the know, air embolisms are a rare occurrence in scuba divers.  The compressed air can get into the bloodstream if proper decompression procedures don't take place before moving from deep waters to shallower depths.  In the brain, symptoms are an instant loss of consciousness and convulsions.  I have it on (semi) reliable authority that air embolisms can occur in the bloodstream or a joint and travel to the brain… but I haven't seen any documentation to support that.  For the purposes of the story, that's what happened.  **

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**_Author's Notes- Yes… I'm evil.  I am Evil-TheGreyLady.  I hate leaving you guys on cliffies, I really do… but I've got to break this story up.  Otherwise you'd have (as of now) one 60-something page story.  And that's a bitch to read in one sitting, especially if you're trying to find a specific part._**

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**_Anyhow… Another chapter!  WOO HOO!  Go me!  Go me!  It's my birthday!  Thanks to everyone who decided to review.  You all make me feel happy and joyful inside.  Not much to say right now.  So I'll end it here._**

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**_Betas rule- use 'em._**

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**_Thank You's-_**

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**_amazonsummons- ROFL!  Thanks!_**

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**_Risi- I hope chapter 10 solved those troubles for you._**

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**_Lise- Yup… having Hedwig perch on someone's foot was always something I wanted to see.  Thanks for the review!_**

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**_HunnySnowBunny- Thanks, trust me, I have a blast playing around with my research… luckily, I've got my beta to catch any stupid mistakes that I make.  Thanks again!  As to your question about an outline… yes, I do have one.  I know what's going to happen, even if I haven't gotten around to writing some of it.  And yes, there is a reason for Dumbledore and Flamel's absence.  All shall be explained soon._**

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**_Sailor Spectra- What it is… I think, is that if you don't have your email addy set to be visible to the public, it can't be seen.  Thanks for the review.  I hope you like what's coming._**

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	12. Strangling the Stars

Mephistopheles 

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 12~ _Strangling the Stars_

            "Ahh… now.  The only question is where I should begin," Flamel said as he sipped on the tea he had poured for the group.  His jovial face stilled for a moment as he tried to decide exactly where to start.     

            _Oh no, Saint Nick… there are far more questions than that._

            "In my personal opinion, Nicholas," Snape said, adapting his lecture voice, "I think your knowledge of the whereabouts of Albus would be a nice start."

            The old man sighed and said, "In all honesty, I had hoped you would arrive sooner but, be that as it may, it may not be too late."

            "Too late?"  Hermione questioned, fear's spindly fingers establishing their hold on her. 

            "No, child.  Not too late yet.  We are, however, 'cutting it close' as you youngsters say.  Albus is here.  He is, unfortunately, incredibly ill from a curse cast by his nemesis shortly before you arrived at the final battle.

            "I've never seen a curse like it in all my years.  He came here, months ago, shaking and quivering like a babe.  Everything I've done to save him has all amounted to naught.  I hoped that the clues would lead you to me sooner."

            "Clues?"  Hermione said, fear giving way to anger, "What clues?  We found the pattern on accident!"

            "My wife's epitaph, young lady," Flamel said, sounding every bit of his 673 years.  "I was certain that would lead anyone straight to me."

            Hermione felt the blood drain from her face… 

            **"There is one more star in the sky tonight"**

            How could she have missed something that was so incredibly obvious?

            "Apparently," Ron cut in, "you were a bit too subtle."

            "Why didn't you simply owl someone?" Snape asked.  "While I haven't been officially available for quite some time, Minerva has been.  Many people would have killed to know that Albus is alive." 

            "Because I feared any direct communication would be intercepted by people who would rather have him dead.  If you think you're the only people who have drawn a line between Albus and myself, you are sorely mistaken."

            "Why haven't you told the Ministry where Dumbledore is?  Surely they can help," Harry said.

            "As you all should know, organized government is inherently corrupt… not that there is a viable alternative."  The old man sighed, "Sadly, I don't know of any conventional methods with which to save him.  Senility has rendered this old mind significantly less creative.  If I were to take him to the Ministry, well, the few ideas I've come up with won't be used.  In any case, Albus insisted upon leaving the Ministry ignorant."

            "Why would he do that?" Hermione asked, confusion gripping her.

            "In all honesty, he was afraid of an assassination attempt on his weakened body… hardly an unrealistic fear."  At the questioning glances cast by Hermione and her peers, Nicholas continued, "Albus has been a thorn in the side of the Ministry ever since he began teaching at Hogwarts.  There have been attempts upon his life before, but he was readily able to defend himself."

            Hermione felt the foundations of her ideal Albus Dumbledore begin to shake.  Surely no curse could bring _her_ Dumbledore to stand on death's doorstep and knock impatiently.  The look on Flamel's face told her otherwise as he rose to lead them up the winding staircase.

            Even the pictures on the wall remained in silent deference to the man she knew was at the apex of the stair.  The group mindlessly followed Flamel until he came to a door.  "Be quiet," he said.  "He needs his rest."  With that, Flamel opened the door.

            The room was silent save for the sounds of wet, labored breathing.  A soft scent permeated the room… antiseptic and… something.  It was hauntingly familiar but she couldn't place it.  Knowing that everything she'd ever thought depended on it, Hermione couldn't help but look.  There was Albus Dumbledore -- friend, mentor, and nearly god-like in his abilities – lying almost dead on the bed.  Helpless.  

            _What did you expect?_ She asked herself, _That this was supposed to be some kind of "Rite of Passage" that he'd envisioned for us?_  _That everything was suddenly going to be okay?_  Hermione bit back the tears that threatened to fall.  She had naïvely thought just that.  She'd wanted so desperately for Dumbledore to have some sort of crazy plan in mind for them.  Even looking at him, she couldn't help but think that soon he would pop up and ask if anyone wanted a candy.

            Though her eyes conveyed the scene as being very real, her mind simply didn't want to believe it.

            Harry and Ron rushed to Albus' side as she stood back, trying to force her mind to accept this cold reality.  She felt Severus place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.  She couldn't tear herself from the doorway… couldn't take the steps that Ron and Harry had taken in order to make this ordeal factual.  They'd come so far only to have their only hope torn from them by some malicious and uncaring god. 

            Severus' hand dropped from her shoulder and went to the small of her back, nudging her forward.  She knew this was just as difficult for him if not more so.  She put on a brave face and stepped forward.  When she reached the bed, she saw exactly what had happened to the man.  His eyes were sunken in with dark black circles acting as a startling contrast to his pure white skin.

            The waxy skin, though she had always remembered Dumbledore's wrinkles, seemed to be falling from his face and gathering in soft folds around his ears.  His chest rose and fell erratically but she still found it reassuring.  They were late, that much was obvious, but Flamel didn't think that it was too late.

            Somehow, Hermione had to take assurance in this doddering old fool's hope.

            "What's happening to him?" Ron asked quietly.

            "You've all had a nasty shock for today.  I'll show you later."

            Hermione too a shuddering breath and replied, "No.  Show us now.  We've been in the dark for too long."

            Flamel sighed and stepped forward to pull the sheet away from Dumbledore's torso.  The familiar stench suddenly assaulted her nostrils caused to her reel back.  Her eyes began to tear up… she knew that smell.

            It had been hanging in the room like an unwelcome visitor when she'd been taken to the Ministry to identify the bodies of her parents.

            _Oh God…_

            She forced her eyes upon the quivering figure on the bed.  In the center of Albus' chest, a festering black hole had eaten through the skin.  Hermione could see his ribs corroding away and his lungs withering with decomposition.  Though she felt sick, she was unable to tear her eyes from the sight before her.

            "Every salve… every potion… every spell that I know has been unable to stop it from growing.  Severus," Flamel, eyes alight with unshed tears, said as he turned to the man hundreds of years his junior, "I need you to help me build another Philosopher's Stone."

                        *                                              *                                              *

            "What's the situation with the Stone?"  Hermione asked when Snape came to her chambers later that night.  She'd been in her room reading and waiting for Severus to come and give her an analysis of progress… if there had been any.

            "The old man doesn't remember exactly how to make it," he said bitterly as he removed his jacket and sat on the bed.  "Hopefully, between the two of us we can recreate the stone."

            "You can," she said.  Not because she thought it was true but because she needed to believe it.  She moved to him and began to rub his tense shoulders.  "Is there anything we can do?"

            He groaned softly and said, "Aside from what you're doing right now, no."  Slumping forward, he added, "Nicholas says that Albus comes in and out of coherent consciousness.  The best thing you can do is ask him questions while he's awake."

            He took a sharp breath as she began to focus on a particularly painful knot.  She would have asked him to remove his shirt but felt that would be inviting him into territory best left uncharted.  She did, however, take pleasure in being able to run her hands over his back and shoulders.  From what she had seen of him, he had a lean physique but it startled her nevertheless to feel all of the muscle he had.  She kneaded the muscles until they relaxed slightly.  Her hands were beginning to hurt.

            "We should get some rest," she said, pulling her hands from his shoulders.  "We've got a lot of work to do tomorrow."

            He nodded and leaned back onto the pillows.  She laid herself next to him, letting her head rest on his chest.  Tonight, even in each other's arms, she knew there would be nightmares.  

                        *                                              *                                              *

            The next morning, Severus went to the basement to work again with Flamel.  She, Harry, and Ron were left with little to do.  When Dumbledore woke, a bell would alert them.  Until then, they found themselves incredibly bored.  Hermione settled into an overstuffed chair and perused one of Flamel's texts.  Harry and Ron opted for a game of Exploding Snap.  Ron always carried a deck of cards with him.  For the first time since she knew him, it was helpful.

            The book, entitled "The Dark Reign," should have been called "Professor Binns' Lecture Series- Part Eight."  She'd read potion formulas that were more interesting.  The text itself droned on, completely devoid of active verbs.  Curious, she flipped to the first page:

            **Eldon Binns**

            _Binns?  Hardly a coincidence_, she thought.  Looking at the publication date, she determined that Eldon was probably an ancestor who had passed the curse of total dullness to his descendent.  It was an awful legacy. 

            She looked thorough it anyway, hoping to find some sort of allusion to the room in the Ministry.  No such luck.  She could actually consult Professor Binns, now that she thought about it… but that would mean having to listen to him lecture for a good few hours.  She didn't have the time or the stamina to sit through any more of Binns' lectures. 

            As she moved to reshelf the book, the trio was startled by a ring.  They rushed up the staircase and into Dumbledore's room.  The man remained lying upon the bed but his eyes were open, looking around at his surroundings as though he had never seen them before.

            "Headmaster?"  Harry called as he approached.

            "James," Albus' weak voice replied, "How is your son?  Is he walking yet?  We've…" the old man coughed violently, "We've already had him added to the school registry."

            Harry fell silent and pale.  Hermione piped in, mustering the most cheerful voice she could manage, "Headmaster, how are you feeling?"

            "Oh, Miss Granger…" his words were weak and labored, "How is your apprenticeship going?"

            "I took a year off, sir."  She replied.  "I'll be starting my apprenticeship in September."

            "Ahh… I don't remember that."

            "It's fine, sir."  She knew Dumbledore was delirious.  He had been the man to encourage her to take a year off for healing.

            "I remember your first year.  You came in with James, Ronald, Lily, and Harry… and Molly and Arthur…  After you met Sirius and Remus… oh, you were trouble, the lot of you.  Constantly breaking rules… but I knew, James…" Dumbledore halted suddenly, his breathing became more erratic as he surveyed his visitors with bewilderment.  The memories of his great mind were becoming muddled together.  

            "Of course we were," Hermione replied, letting her gentle tones placate the older man.  Taking his hand and nodding with as much enthusiasm as she could manage, she said, "Severus is here, too."

            "That's good.  I worry about him.  He steals books from the Restricted Section… and his father…  his father is… unkind to him."

            "We know, sir."  Ron added, taking on Hermione's pacifying tone.  "You need your rest."

            "I know," Dumbledore coughed.  "We've another Sorting Ceremony tomorrow."  

            Ron strode over to Hermione and whispered, "Harry is going to snap.  Get him out of here.  I'll let you know if Dumbledore starts making sense."

            She turned to examine Harry as Albus rambled on about the adventures they'd had with people she'd never attended school with.  Harry's eyes glowed with unshed tears and his fisted hands shook noticeably.  He'd never really gotten over the bitterness of losing his loving parents and being raised by painfully indifferent relatives.  She suspected that when he'd learned more about his parents, it had only aggravated the matter.

            He'd had his dream family… and lost it before he was old enough to appreciate how wonderful that could be.

            Now he was being confused with the father he'd never had… the father who would have been there… the man who had married the woman who had borne him… who had in turn willingly sacrificed her life so that Harry could continue his.  She couldn't even begin to imagine how difficult this was.  Albus had always conducted his dealings involving Harry with kid-gloves and was now too disoriented to continue with such delicate handling.

            Ron continued, pressing his deck of cards into her open hand, "There's also a chess set downstairs.  Just distract him for now.  We'll talk to him later."

            She nodded and walked to Harry, telling him that Ron was going to sit with Albus until the stricken man fell asleep.  Harry nodded absently as she took his hand.

            The scarlet red, crescent-moon indentations on his hand did not escape her nor did the slight red tint staining the tips of his nails… from where he'd drilled them into his hands in a futile effort to remain strong.  _Oh, Harry…_she thought, _I'm so sorry…_  

            They bid their good-days to Albus.  As they walked to the door, she heard Albus call, "How are your parents, Harry?"

            Hermione felt the tears welling up in her eyes.  She brought her hand to Harry's shoulder and squeezed it in a futile effort to soothe him.  He took several deep, shaking breaths as she felt his shoulder tense with resolve.  Her teary eyes met Ron's and they shared a moment that said, "I would have died before I let something this terrible happen to him."

            Harry turned and looked back at the disoriented old man with a tone that belied what she and Ron knew what afflicting him.  "They're fine, Headmaster."  He said sadly, his eerie final words escaping in a harsh whisper, "They're fine."

**Author's Notes-  Wow, you guys really do read these things.  I'd like to start by saying that it wasn't my birthday on Thursday.  I was just using that as a sort of exclamation (you know *singsong voice* "Go Me!  Go Me!  It's my birthday" (probably should have added "Not for real, though.")  In any case, thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday.  I did have one in January.  And it was a very happy birthday indeed.  I'll make it a point to remember that a lot of exclamations of that nature don't translate well into text.  Hopefully, the rest of the story won't suffer from the same affliction…**

**Next… I've received several notes asking me about Disturbances ("Is it going to be completed?"  "Why aren't you working on it?"  I'll answer these the best that I can.  Yes, Disturbances will be completed… it has not been abandoned.  Yes, I am _still_ working on it.  Keep in mind that Mephistopheles and Disturbances are, in my mind, night and day.  It's damn near impossible-- in my mind-- to write the two simultaneously.  I've come up with a good bit of material for Disturbances but none of it seemed to fit.  Disturbances quickly became a much darker piece, which isn't true to the nature of the story.  I'd rather publish a _good_ chapter of Disturbances than a mediocre one. **

**In a secondary defense, while I was writing Disturbances I was updating once a week/once in a while.  Compared to that, I'm updating this story with the tenacity of a rabbit in heat.  This story nailed me and I feel the need to finish this before returning to Disturbances.  After this story, I promise that no other "side-projects" will be undertaken until Disturbances is completed.  Scout's honor (even though I was never a scout.)**

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**_Thankees to-_**

_sweetevangeline-  You're welcome for being added to the update list (lots of peoples now!)  Thank YOU for the lovely review!_

_Alynna Lis Eachann-  I kinda thought the same thing.  Flamel, that ungrateful prick.  Thanks for the review!_

_lee74- ;)  Thanks!_

_risi- This chapter answers a whole bunch of the questions… and, uhhh… sorry about the whole Birthday thing._


	13. Life's Direction

Mephistopheles 

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com) 

Chapter 13~  _Life's Direction_

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What happened to the man 

_Who couldn't be defeated_

_Who always stood his ground_

_When lesser men retreated?_

Assemblage 23- _Fallen Down_

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            "I know they didn't mean to abandon me.  They'd wanted Sirius to be my guardian if they… but then everything with him happened and I was stuck with the Dursley's.  They tried.  I know that they tried.  It's wrong to be angry…" Harry began to chant over and over again.

            "It's not wrong to be angry at circumstance," Hermione said in a trembling voice, valiantly attempting to remain calm at this onslaught of emotion.

            The conversation with Harry had been painful but she hadn't expected it to be anything less.  Initially, he'd refused to speak about it, even with prodding on Hermione and Ron's parts.  He simply seemed disinterested in talking about it.  

            Hermione couldn't bring herself to blame him.  Who could?  She'd felt very much the same way when she'd had to deal with the death of her own parents.  She tried so hard to justify it.  To make her parents somehow worthy of the murders they'd inevitably surrendered to.  

            In the end, however, she'd had to acknowledge the harsh truth; her parents had died because of her.  It was her own association with The-Boy-Who-Lived, along with her Muggle-born heritage and academic dominance over her 'pure-blooded' peers that had given the Death Eaters a reason to target her family.

            God help her, she would never stop feeling guilty for that.

            And Harry, his only crime against the Dark Lord was being born.  Trelawny had predicted that his birth would result in a death; it was a pity that she hadn't realized how many people would die because she'd opened her big mouth*.

            After endless interrogation, Harry had opened up and let loose a rage so frustrated and painful that Hermione couldn't help but find it… beautiful.

            All the anger, all the skeletons in his closet came loose in one fell swoop that was so exquisitely honest that she found herself wondering how long this diatribe had been festering within his unsettled mind.

            "They loved me!" he said as though it was an accusation.  "They loved me!  She _died_…" Harry finally succumbed to his tears.  The young man's shoulders quaked furiously as he collapsed to his knees onto the floor, his hands covering his distressed face… as though he had something to be embarrassed about.

            Hermione and Ron were there in an instant, wrapping their arms around him, unsuccessfully trying to guard him from the anguish that wracked his being.  Harry had always been so cautious with his feelings.  Anger was the only real emotion she'd ever seen him convey openly.  This grief was something that had been rotting him from the inside for years.

            She saw tears marring Ron's eyes through her own.  She'd known how Harry had suffered but had, foolishly, regarded him as being too strong to let it eat at him.

            God, how wrong she had been.

            In all the years she'd known him, in all the conversations they'd had, Harry had never mentioned his parents in anything other than passing.  She instantly regretted the words she'd spoken to him over seven years ago:

            "It's in your blood."

            She'd been speaking of his placement on the Quidditch team but couldn't help but feel that she'd only been twisting the knife with her thoughtless words.  She knew that Ron couldn't understand the loss; he'd always had a kind and caring family to watch over him.

            She, however, could relate to Harry on a similar level.

            "It's okay to be upset.  It's okay to be bitter.  It's okay to cry.  Just cry, Harry.  It's fine.  We won't tell anyone," she whispered, bowing her head to the heavens in a silent prayer for strength.  She pressed a quick kiss to Harry's forehead as his young shoulders began to shake even harder.  

            In her peripheral vision, she caught sight of Severus watching Harry's breakdown.  She couldn't read his expression; she was too focused on her distraught companion.  She silently begged every deity she had ever held holy that Severus would simply leave and not lend an acerbic comment to the situation.

            Harry couldn't handle it, not right now.  He may never be able to deal with it.

            Severus apparently had heard her unspoken plea for mercy and disappeared from her limited sight.  She promised to pray that night, something she'd nearly abandoned years ago.  _God never gives you more than you can handle…_

            She and Ron held Harry until he had cried himself out.  She, in a strange way, had been purged herself purely by watching Harry cry.  It was a liberty she would give him easily, but was hard-pressed to grant herself.  She'd cried enough during the past months; everything from henceforth should be easier.  Harry had finally let them into his psyche, something he had desperately hidden from them throughout their years of friendship. T They'd reached a new depth in their relationship.

            She would not waste this precious gift.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Hermione and Ron came to the conclusion that Harry shouldn't sit with Dumbledore again.  Even with the odd catharsis he'd reached through his outburst, they doubted re-exposing him to such a painful stimulus would be prudent.

            Harry, however, remaining true to form, refused to be coddled in such a manner.  He sat with Albus in defiance of his own weaknesses.  Hermione and Ron had both tried to sit in while Harry listened to Albus confuse him with his father.  Eventually, Harry had snapped at them to leave.

            He was dealing with this the only way he could, she knew-- by directly confronting his demons.  She shouldn't have expected anything less from him.  He'd always had difficulty distinguishing acts of bravery with sheer recklessness.  Though he seemed to be handling it well, Hermione could see the emotional fatigue in Harry's eyes each time he re-entered the parlor after a visit with Albus.

            She made every effort to banish her pity for the boy.  Harry didn't need pity nor did he want it. 

            It continued like that for days.  The three managed to alternate sitting with Albus while he was awake and, occasionally, Severus or Flamel would come in.  In those rare events, the youths immediately vacated the premise and tried to pass the time playing games or reading.  There wasn't much talking.  There didn't seem to be anything to say.

            Excluding when he visited with Dumbledore, the only time she saw Severus was when he came to bed at night, most of the time that was after she'd already fallen asleep.  When she would ask him about progress made with the stone, he'd simply sigh and shake his head.  She soon stopped asking.

            While the books were fascinating, she really wanted to help with the recreation of the stone.  Severus had already told her several times that the only thing she could do in that lab would be watching himself and Flamel work.  It would have been a pleasant alternative to watching her former headmaster whither into nothing before her very eyes.  

            Then again, it was increasingly rare that she got what she wanted.  Severus was an interesting exception.

            She sat with Dumbledore, listening to him babble about his childhood.  Nobody had experienced Albus coming to anything closely resembling clarity but they still clung to hope like a security blanket.  There wasn't an acceptable alternative.   

            "… she was beautiful, you know.  Her name was Lenore and she loved birds**," Albus said.

            Hermione smiled until she thought her cheeks would crack from the exertions.  "Of course she was, Headmaster." 

            "Absolutely breathtaking, she was.  Her hair was like wheat swaying in the summer breeze and her eyes…" he paused for a moment as though he were collecting his thoughts.  "They were… blue with big black dots in them.  

            Hermione suppressed a giggle and continued to study the elderly man's hand.  His silence didn't occur to her until he ended it with his next words.

            "You look troubled, Miss Granger," Albus said with an interesting lilt to his weakened voice.

            She smiled and squeezed his hand gently, "I am troubled… but it's nothing you can control."

            "Is it about your parents?" he wheezed, the words were broken and disjointed due to his fatigue.

            That startled her; it was the first reference he had made to her parents demise.  This could be the moment of perception they had all been patiently waiting for.  Slowly, she replied, "No, sir.  It's about something going on in the Ministry."

            "Cornelius Fudge at it again?"

            Her pulse sped up as she examined the man again.  His eyes were alight with intelligence, something she hadn't seen in him since she'd arrived at Rábida.  For the second time, he'd correctly ascertained the facts.  "No.  There's a room in the Department of Mysteries," she dared to say.  "There are… simply horrible things in it."

            "What do you mean?"

            "A pool of blood…" her voice shook against her will but she continued, "beating hearts floating in it… black ghosts crawling over the ceiling…"

            Albus took on a look of contemplation.  She didn't say anything more for fear of breaking this moment of lucidity… it could be the last one he had.  She sat in perfect stillness even though her heart was threatening to burst.  He finally spoke again, "Hermione, ask Nicholas to lend you a book of mine.  It's the only untitled book in my collection here.  You should find your answers.  Severus can help you."

            "Severus is busy working on a way to cure you," she stated matter-of-factly.

            "It is unnecessary.  I'm dying." Dumbledore succumbed to a coughing fit.  Hermione was aghast to see a crusty dark substance sputter from his lips and stain his chin as hacked violently.

            "No!" She said as though it could make a difference, "We need you to speak for Severus!  You're the only person who can clear his name!  You have to help us!  Please!"  She couldn't stop the tears from falling.  This couldn't be happening.  Albus Dumbledore never gave up without a fight…

            … and looking into his eyes, she saw that the fight was gone.  The man who had been recognized as the epitome of greatness had left long ago.  Before her now lay a man that was ready to leave the waking world in hopes of something much sweeter.  

            _Hope… what have I truly known of hope?_

            Dumbledore's breathing became more erratic as he said, "Severus… I want to see him."

            With a quick, "Hold on," Hermione tore from the room and down the steps.  Harry and Ron gave her startled looks as she ran for the dungeon.  Dimly, she heard the pair scuffle up to Albus' room over the pounding of her own footsteps.  When she reached the door to Flamel's lab, she pounded on it with a relentless fist.  Snape opened the door, startled by her appearance.

            She said, "He's asking for you."  She saw the look of abject horror in his eyes before he raced to his friend's side.  Flamel slowly followed, his old feet dragging across the indifferent stone floor.

            When she made it back upstairs, the boys were sitting there once again.  Dumbledore had evicted them from the room once Snape had arrived.  Hermione took a seat near the pale boys and tried to control her own trembling.  

            Harry sighed wearily, "How much progress have you made with the stone?"

            Flamel looked at his clasped hands in his lap and spoke.  "If we had another month… just another month…"

            With that, no more words needed to be spoken.  They didn't have another month.  They all knew that they probably didn't have another day… but it was a sentiment best left unspoken.  Hermione began silently berating herself.  Why hadn't she taken more notice of the epitaph?  Why hadn't she found the answer before it was too late?  

            Why was it that while she had won, she had still lost?

            Maybe an hour later-- she wasn't sure… the minutes were ticking by like years-- Snape returned.  He motioned for everyone to come upstairs.  So this was it.  This was the end of a man whose greatness was embedded within the walls of Hogwarts itself.  Severus took her hand as they walked up the stair, his eyes remained stoic but she could still see how much this was killing him.

             They all dutifully pulled up chairs and sat next to Albus.  Before Hermione had the opportunity to procure her own, Severus gave her his own, opting to stand.  She felt his cold hand come to rest on her shoulder and reached up to entwine their fingers.  She was mildly shocked by the open display of affection but didn't think anymore about it.  Severus needed her to be near him; she wasn't about to deny him that comfort.  The boys silently acknowledged her position but, again, said nothing.

            They were unable to tear their eyes away from Dumbledore's prone form.  They just watched as his wheezing became more erratic.  Hermione kept telling herself to be strong even though she wanted nothing more than to collapse into a fit of tears.

            In broken breaths, Albus spoke of a woman he'd known.    

            They watched as Albus drew his final shuddering gasp for air… all their foolish hopes were released in a resounding, rasping breath.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            They had all sat in stone silence and stared, transfixed, at Albus Dumbledore, as though his vacant body would suddenly spring back to life.  Voldemort had finally accomplished one of his many life goals, though he did not live to know it.  Hermione took a small comfort in that but it wasn't nearly enough to banish the ache of loss. 

            It wasn't until Flamel had mentioned burial that anyone had the gumption to speak.  Albus would spend his eternal rest in Malta next to the empty plot Flamel had thought he would be occupying by now.  Harry and Ron had let their masculinity drop and openly wept with Hermione.  The savior they had mutually loved was gone.  It was hopeless.  Everything was hopeless… and everyone in the room knew it.  

             Hermione and Severus went back to her room.  She'd left Severus in order to take a bath.  She needed some comfort.  She ran the water as hot as she could take it, praying that the discomfort would help distract her from the peril they were all in.  It wasn't fair.  It wasn't fair that Albus Dumbledore was dead.  They had worked so hard to find him and lost him too quickly.

            When Hermione returned from her bath, she didn't feel any better.  Albus Dumbledore was gone and nothing they could do was going to bring him back.  No prayers… no screams… no tears would change this.

            She couldn't help but wonder if God was laughing at her.

            Even though she'd solved the puzzle, she had still lost.  No defeat had ever tasted so bitter.  Even when Sirius had died, she'd known that there was nothing she could do.  Now she was left to contemplate the results of her ignorance… of her ignoring a vital clue that could have given them more time to save Albus.

            She suddenly understood how Harry must have felt when Sirius died, having ignored the obvious fact that he had a mirror that would have connected the two instantly in lieu of playing a hero.

            Severus hadn't said a word since they returned to her room.  Nobody had said anything except for some harsh cries.  Severus hadn't said a thing.  His face had remained a mask of grief but no tears had been shed.  She could only compare his behavior to her own when she had learned of her parents' death.

            Severus was sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.  He looked overworked and overtired.  She didn't know what to expect from him.  If he had raged, broken things and screamed at the injustice of the world, she could have handled it.  If he had cried, she could have held him. 

            But this silent anguish was too much to deal with. 

            She sat next to him and placed a hesitant arm around him.  He pulled her into an embrace and held her as though she were his lifeline.  His shoulders quaked and his breath hitched.  She ran a hand through his hair, whispering that everything was going to be okay even though in actuality, nothing was.  It was quite possible that nothing would be okay ever again… but she couldn't tell him that.  She couldn't make herself voice the reality that both of them knew.

            He pulled away long enough to kiss her.  She was shocked at the sheer force of it.  One of his hands tangled into her hair while the other pulled her in so tightly she thought he was trying to meld their bodies together.  Her shirt, slightly wet from residual bathwater, pressed to his and her one of her legs hung haphazardly over his thigh.  When his hand slipped under the back of her shirt and began caressing her bare skin, Hermione had a startling revelation at exactly where this was going.   

            He wasn't kissing her because he wanted her.  He was kissing her because she was there and he needed to escape.  As much as she cared for him, she couldn't bring herself to be that vessel for him; because she knew from experience that ship would be torn apart by the rocks and crash, leaving them both more desolate than before.  

            She gently pried his hands away from her and ran her fingers though his lank hair, "This isn't going to make it better, Severus."

            He jerked back as though she had slapped him.  In a sense, she had but she couldn't let him do this.  There was too much at stake… too much could be lost, especially now.  If he needed comfort, she would be here.  But he needed distraction and she couldn't bring herself to whore her body to provide it.

            If she did, she would only lose him…. and she couldn't bear to deal with another loss tonight.

            He quickly rose and strode to the door.  As he opened it, Hermione said, "If you need to talk, Severus, I'll be here." He froze for a moment and she continued, "But I will not be just a body for you to lose yourself in… and you wouldn't respect me if I did."

            She thought she saw his shoulders slump but he was gone before she could say anything else.  They had taken themselves back to square one but she knew that sleeping with him wasn't going to bring Albus back.  If anything, it would make having to deal with it harder on both of them.   

            She loved him too much to let herself be an instrument for his self-destruction.

            She loved him.

            _Shit._

**_*Yes, yes… I know that Trelawny goes into a trance-like state when she prophesizes… but Hermione's never been told as much.  So that's my story and I'm sticking to it._**

****

**_**10 points to anyone who catches the reference… it shouldn't be difficult._**

_ANs- *Cautiously peeps head around corner, looks around, and finds no one nearby*  Well, I suppose that answers that question.  I know that I've officially put myself on the "Most Wanted" list… and not in a good way.  But hear me out.  If you all still really hate me, feel free to flame the hell out of me in an email or review.  _

_In an effort to stay not only true to myself but true to J.K's storyline, Albus had to die.  Sorry, he isn't a god.  Fact is, I've agonized about putting this chapter out for several reasons… the main one should be obvious… I'm gonna lose a BUNCH of readers for this one._

_I've been toying around with several different endings… and frankly, I see the endings with Dumbledore living as being incredibly anti-climactic.  La da dee, dee da!  Oh look, Albus will be okay!  Now everything will be fine!  Let's sing and dance!  Try as I might (and trust me, I tried) I couldn't make the story end the way I wanted it to if he lived.  So trust me, I'm not doing this for the sake of angst, I'm doing this for the sake of writing a story that I can be proud of.  If that means that I lose what few readers that I have, then so be it._

_In case any readers didn't notice, this isn't fluff.  J.K. got a lot of crap for killing off Sirius… and I'm definitely going to get a lot of crap for this one.  I tried; believe me, I tried.  I had a really horrible ending in mind, where Dumbledore survived the curse only to be felled later but the irony of that was too much for even me._

_And trust me… I'm a really ironic person.  Interpret that as you will._

_There is a slight method to my madness.  So please, if you've gotten this far and haven't taken out a hit on me, please continue reading.  If you decide not to… well…  little I can do about it._

_Read on._

_Thank You's!_

_Hidden Allusion-  *Deep Breath* I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry.  Thanks for the reviews.  Please don't hate me._

_Anarane Anwamane-  Yeah… yeah… I know.  I'm a horrible person.  Sorry._

_Risi- LOL!  You weren't the only person who predicted that Albus wouldn't be with Flamel.  As for notebooks and instructions for the PS… well, keep in mind that after the stone was destroyed, it only made sense that all notes would go with it to keep anyone else from building another one.  Have a merry non-birthday this year!_

_Alynna Lis Eachann- I hope you like this chapter.  Thanks!_

_sweetevangeline- Glad you liked the last chapter, I hope this one doesn't make you mad at me.  :)_

_amazonsummons- Sorry for smashing your hopes… and further smashing the hopes again.  God, I can already see where this is going…_


	14. Pallid Delusions

Mephistopheles 

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 14~  _Pallid Delusions_

            Three days later, she and Severus did what they did best.  They pretended like nothing had ever happened.  Harry and Ron noticed the careful distance kept between the pair but chose again not to question it.  Flamel had gone to Malta to bury Albus and thus far he hadn't returned.  With their fugitive status, no one could join him.  She got the odd feeling that he preferred it that way.

            Hermione didn't feel prepared to read the book Albus had given her but she needed distraction.  Flamel had given it to her before his departure with no qualm but had advised her to be careful about reading the book.  She hesitantly opened to the first page and was mildly shocked to see only a page of symbols:

            **Βιβλίο από σκοτάδι**

            She cast a translation charm to no avail.  The book was somehow guarded against it, guarded so well that even a revealing charm wouldn't tell her how to break it.  Cursing openly, she quickly flipped through the other pages.  The entire book was in Greek, a language she'd considered pointless to learn as most ancient Wizarding texts were written in Latin.  

            _Naturally, the language I decided **not** to study would wind up being the one I need_, she thought bitterly.  It wasn't the only language she'd not studied; the book could have been written in Japanese and she'd still be clueless as to its contents.  Academic prodigy or not, she couldn't learn every language.

            Searching the bookshelves for a Greek to English dictionary, she was unsurprised that Flamel didn't own one.  The man was probably fluent in the language… pity he wasn't here.  Harry and Ron were unfamiliar with the language as well-- surprise, surprise.  Severus probably wouldn't be able to translate it either, not that she would even consider asking him.  On a whim, she took a quill and wrote the word "blood" on a piece of parchment and cast a reverse-translation charm.

            The particles of ink began to move of her volition and she found herself confronted with another strange set of symbols:

            **αίμα**

            A few of the pages were skimmed as she looked for the word.  She had no idea how many rituals and spells in the book mentioned it.  She mentally narrowed her search and printed the word "heart" onto the sheet before casting the charm.

            That, frighteningly, hadn't narrowed her search field by much.

            Disgusted, she placed the book upon the table once more, deciding that scanning though what she believed to be dark rituals was not the best way to ease her mind.  She'd seen Severus twice today and both times he had pointedly ignored her.  She knew that she had done the right thing.  Why the hell did it have to seem like the stupidest mistake she could have made?  Severus had made himself vulnerable for her… and she'd spurned him in a moment of self-righteousness.  She couldn't help but wonder if he _had_ actually wanted to use her as a distraction… but lately it seemed like her thinking wasn't accomplishing anything.

            Ask Albus.

            Looking at Harry and Ron, she was torn between planning the next move in this game and collapsing into a weeping heap.  They were in this because of her.  Even if they didn't have the courtesy to be indignant about it, they were going to go to jail for her.  Not saying a word, she rose and went back to her room.  She needed to be alone with her grief.  

            As she cried on her bed, her misery contorted into anger.  Anger at herself, anger at the Ministry, anger at Severus…  and sadly, there was nothing she could do to change it.  Even as her fingers itched to break many of the beautiful baubles in her room, she sat quietly.  She wouldn't lash out at an inanimate object.  It was too cliché.

            A soft knock sounded at her door.  Part of her hoped it was Severus even as the door opened and revealed two young men.  Ron and Harry looked awful but she couldn't imagine she was exactly a sight for sore eyes.  They'd brought her dinner.  Though she was far from hungry, she ate it anyway to ease the minds of her companions.  She couldn't remember eating since Albus died.

            The three sat on her bed and reminisced about their days at Hogwarts.  They shared memories of Albus.  This was the closest thing to closure they could get.  The words were as soft as the candlelight in the room and soothed her just the same.  A lull came in the conversation and everyone knew what needed to be said next.

            It was Harry who had the courage to say it. "What do we do now?"

            Ron sighed, "I'm out of ideas."

            "Aren't we all?"  Hermione said solemnly.  "I'm going to go through the book Albus gave me again.  If we know what we're up against then we have a higher chance of survival.  In any case, it is an uphill battle."

            Her companions nodded again as another silence came into the conversation.

            "Hermione," Ron said quietly, "What's going on with you and Snape?"

            She groaned.  She'd known this conversation was coming.  "I don't know," she said.  "I really don't know."

            "Well, the both of you seem close… or seemed close…" Harry replied, trailing off as he realized that this was more than likely not a pleasant discussion for her.

            "We became closer over the past few months.  But…" she sighed, "Something happened the other night and, well, we aren't really speaking to each other now."

            "Do I need to ask?" Harry said.

            She released a breathy laugh and stated, "I'd rather you didn't, to be honest.  It's funny, though.  Now that I think about it, I barely know him."  She shrugged nonchalantly, praying that her faked indifference would close the discussion.

            "How do you mean?"  Harry asked again.  Apparently, they'd been right when they said that she couldn't act to save her life.  Maybe she should take some acting lessons along with the art classes.

            "I don't know anything about his past.  I don't know why he joined Voldemort.  I don't know why I…" she bit the words back.  She didn't want Harry and Ron to know the depths of her feelings for the seemingly indifferent man.  "… care for him as much as I do."

            Ron grinned and elbowed her softly, "Well, we all know Snape, Hermione.  Such a charmer, that one."  A mock whimsical look crossed his face as he stood from the bed.  His voice became a fanciful murmur, "That glossy black hair and those dark mysterious eyes…" The back of his hand came to rest on his forehead as he tilted his head to the ceiling.  "Oh, Harry!" He pled, "Catch me, I'm falling!"

            Unfortunately for Ron, Harry was unable to catch his "stricken" companion before he fell back and crashed onto the floor.  Hermione gaped at Ron before succumbing to a fit of giggles.  Harry's loud chuckle accompanied hers and soon enough Ron peeled himself away from the floor to join them.

            Ron would have made one hell of a comedian.  He was so much like George and Fred in that respect.

            It reminded her of old times when the three of them hadn't been consumed in life-or-death missions to keep each other safe before Voldemort, before the end of their first year… before they even turned twelve-years old.  _My God, has life always been so serious?_  The odd thing was, she wouldn't exchange her friends for all the safety in the world. 

            The mirth was a pleasant change from the darkness that had been haunting her for the past few weeks.

            Ron sobered and took on a more serious tone, "Hermione, Harry and me…" He paused as Hermione shot him a look of disapproval and sighed with disgust, "Harry and _I_ can't exactly thrash Snape for being a prat.  He'd…"  Ron let the sentence drop off.

            Harry laughed.  "Kill us?" he suggested.

            Ron chortled, "Yeah… that.  But if you ever need to talk, we'll be here.  All right?

            Hermione's eyes began to tear up.  "Thanks.  I'll keep that in mind," she said.  

            The boys both nodded.  With nothing left to be said, Harry and Ron left after hugging Hermione.  She rested against her pillows.  Her heart much lighter, she began to actively analyze the situation again.

            Everything about this screamed politics.  It was a landscape she was unfamiliar with.  Not a one in their group had the clout to fight this battle.  That possibility had died three days ago.  They didn't dare involve another person in this.  _Unless…_          Hermione jerked out of her bed and reached for Albus' book with a shaking hand and renewed vigor as a plan began racing though her mind.  

            It was just stupid enough to work.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Hermione researched into the night, formulating and refining the plan in her mind.  Even at its perfection, the idea itself bordered on madness.  _Well_, she thought, _sanity hasn't gotten me too far with this_.  Soon enough, the sun's rays were peeping through her window.  She reluctantly waited until ten to call everyone into a meeting.

            She looked down at her finished work.  Without a doubt, this would either clear their names or kill them… or both.  They would have to pay for their reprieve… and the cost was incredibly high.  If it worked they could all lead a semblance of normal lives.  If it failed they wouldn't have a life to live.  She was planning a game against the Devil; she could only hope that she'd win.

            "Are you going to enlighten us to the meaning of this meeting, Miss Granger?" Severus said.  Surprise, he was back to calling her by her surname.

            "There may still be a way to fix this," she said.  Everyone immediately knew what "this" referred to.

            "What's your plan?"  Harry asked, leaning forward and focusing all his attention onto her.

            "We have to buy our safety," she said.  "It's as simple as that."

            Severus snorted softly, "I hardly think Fudge is going to accept any meager bribe we could offer.  He has all the wizards' tax money."

            Hermione ignored his tone and continued, "We aren't going to Fudge.  We can't win that battle.  We need allies who can."

            "Hermione, no one in Britain is going to help us, save maybe Luna," Ron said, tapping his skull and whistling to convey what he thought of that idea.  "And even when she had _The Quibbler_ put out that story on Harry, it was met with skepticism."  Hermione nodded and allowed a small smile to creep onto her face.  Ron narrowed his eyes at this decidedly inappropriate action.  "What are you proposing?"

              "One or two of us has to go back to that room," she answered, taking great lengths to avoid looking at the men.  "We take pictures of it and go to the American Bureau of Magic.  Then we plead for amnesty.  If we get status as political refugees, the Ministry can't touch us.  That will at least bring about some resolution on that issue."

            "Why don't we just forego the room and head to America now?"  Ron cut in, "That's the part I'm the most uncomfortable with."

            Severus responded before Hermione got the chance.  "Going to American with accusations and no proof will only have us handed over to the Ministry on a silver platter.  Hermione's right.  We need evidence."  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "It sounds good and well in theory but the fact is if we're denied protection from the Americans, we'll essentially be turning ourselves in.  Not to mention what could happen if we get caught in the Ministry or if something happens in that room."

            "I know," Hermione conceded.  "But it's the only plan we've got."

            Everyone fell silent for a moment, each contemplating the repercussions of these foolhardy actions.  They knew she was right.  They knew that by harboring themselves in America they would be safe.  Perhaps the Americans could even fight that battle for them.

            Severus sighed in defeat, "So, who's going?"

            "I am," Harry, Ron, and Hermione said in unison.

            Hermione groaned before anyone else could respond, "We've only got one invisibility cloak.  We three can't fit beneath it anymore.  I think Harry and I should go.  We've been there before and we both know how to operate Muggle equipment.  The fewer people that go, the less the chances are of being caught."

            "True," Ron responded.  "But the room is dangerous.  The fewer people that go, the greater the chances of someone being injured.  It would also be helpful to use magical equipment as well in the event that Muggle technology is guarded against."

            Hermione became angered at Ron's logic, she didn't want Ron and Severus involved in this any more.  "The fact remains that we've only one invisibility cloak.  That means only two of us can go and this is my plan.  So you all need to decide who will go with me."

            "Nicholas has one," Severus said quietly, his tone clearly conveying that he was uncomfortable with the entire situation.  She gave an indignant huff.  For someone who wanted nothing to do with her, he was certainly getting in the way of her plan.  "So we all go."

            She huffed angrily at Severus' stubbornness.  She didn't want him going anywhere near that room; it was very possible he could panic or, even worse, remember.  Even if the mind needed the body to interpret signals, there was still a huge chance that Severus could simply be repressing what was down there.  

            "Fine then, _Severus_," she spit the name even though to pained her, "what do you suppose we should do?"

            "We wait.  Soon enough the Autumnal Equinox will take place.  The Ministry won't be open."

            It made sense.  She knew that it made sense… but then anger she felt for him presupposed ay sort of logic.  "This is my plan and I say that you aren't going!"  As soon as the words escaped her lips, she felt like a petulant child, not exactly the persona she'd been aiming for.  She hastily excused herself and retreated to her bedroom.

            Once there, she slammed her hands onto the dresser and looked at herself in the mirror, willing her composure to return.

            "You cannot stop me," Severus' voice sounded from the doorway.  She hadn't even heard him enter.

            She brandished her wand and replied, "Would you like to place a wager on that?"

            Before she could have given him acceptable time to respond, a muttered charm cast her wand from her hand.  As she turned to see her wand hit the wall, Severus had captured both her wrists within one of his own.  His wand hovered threateningly at her throat.

            "Yes.  I would," he sneered.

            She swallowed nervously, "I don't want you to go, Severus."

            "Unfortunate," he replied.  "I'm still going."

            "Why do you even care?" she dared to ask.

            He snorted.  "Because my freedom depends on your success."  He said it as though it was the most obvious fact in the world.

            Her jaw dropped.  For one of the few times in her life, she found herself completely incapable of speech.  His cold words sent a shiver through her as hurt's icy tendrils froze her logical side.  She didn't know what she had expected him to say; she wasn't looking for a declaration of undying love… but those words, for some reason, painfully reminded her why she'd wanted to avoid caring for the man in the first place.

            A look of bewilderment crossed Severus' face as she fought back the tears and wrenched her arms free.  He softly called her name as she left the room.  She wasn't going to cry in front of him, she wouldn't let him know how much he'd hurt her.  Though her dignity was tattered, she wouldn't offer it up to him. 

            She stood on the terrace, breathing harshly in a futile attempt to quell the emotions flooding her mind.  The sticky summer night engulfed her like a warm, wet blanket.  The door behind her opened and she heard Severus approach her slowly.  The heavy sound of his footsteps had become familiar to her.  He only let his steps be heard when he wanted his presence known.  It made her feel worse.   

            She leaned against the balcony, refusing to acknowledge him.  He said nothing, did nothing.  A sigh of defeat passed from her lips as she said, "If you want to come, you can come."

            "Why does it matter to you?" he said.

            She turned her head and spat, "Because I have too much vested in this to fail."  She hoped the words stung him.  He grunted; she had no doubts that he suspected more.  She turned away again and let her words drift to the open sea, "You've done enough.  There's no need to put you in harm's way again."  

            "I've a better chance of handling what's in there than you," he said.  "You know it."

            "Well, call me moral, then," she replied.  Silence stood between the pair like a concrete wall and she was content to leave it there.  Even an intangible barrier could help her gain precious distance from him. 

            "I don't want you hurt," Severus stated quietly, as if the words were painful for him to say.  Something deep inside of her softened at those words and they soothed her tense body in a way she didn't think simple speech was capable of.  His footsteps sounded faintly against the stone floor and two arms clasped her waist, pulling her into his body.

            Proclamations of love itched to leap from her still tongue but she resisted.  There were no words; for one of the few times in her life, there didn't need to be.

            Once again, there was no apology.  Severus was a man of few regrets and no excuses.  The fact that he was silently trying to make amends touched her.  She allowed herself to lean on his frame and entwine her fingers with his.  Tilting her head back to stare at the silent, silver stars, she didn't repress the small smile that formed on her lips when she saw him doing the same.

 _ ****_

           __

_Author's Notes-  I'd like to say, for starters, that I'm **really** shocked with the positive reaction I've received.  Not one flame reached the reviews or my mailbox.  I'm also assuming that no one took a hit out on me (which also makes me very happy!) because I'm still alive._

_Ten points (as promised) goes to Moaning Myrtle, Orin Leland, Tamara, and pyewacket from aff.net.  From L&L.net- jeslyn_nighthawk, loopyloonyluna, jonelin, and LadyFlashB.  From ff.net- Risi (not that I'm surprised) and Alynna Lis Eachann (again, not surprised).  All of you caught that "Her name was Lenore and she loved birds," was a direct reference to Edgar Allen Poe's The Raven._

_Like I've already told all of you, I'm huge on irony and literary references._

_I'd like to personally thank everyone who has stayed with the story and encouraged me to exercise my artistic liberties as a writer.  I was indeed very afraid to put the chapter out and I was met with nothing but praise and support.  Thank you all.  _

_Albus' death was really hard for me to write (I believe nobody reading this chapter cried as hard as I did when I wrote it.)  I lost a dear friend of mine to cancer a while ago and I can't say that he wasn't a part of this.  _

_I felt like it would be too excessive.  It didn't move the plot along; it just emphasized the grief.  I may toss it in when I can write it but I'm happy (as I can be) with the chapter now, so I'm probably just going to let it stand as is. _

_Thanks for reading!_

_By the by- Check out WriterLady1031's fic "The Way Back Home."  It's nifty!_

_Thank you's will be up as soon as I get the time._


	15. Unsolved Answers

Mephistopheles

By- TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com)

Chapter 15-  Unsolved Answers

            Being on amicable terms with Severus again proved to be a blessing in many ways.  He was by no means fluent in Greek but he could pick out specific words in the language and piece simple sentences together with a little effort.  Flamel had yet to return.  It had been over a week.  Hermione couldn't help but be concerned despite her mind's efforts to placate her.

            But then again, how easy could it be to bury a friend of over one hundred years?

            She'd left the book with Severus, hoping that he could make sense of the jumbled foreign letters.  He studied it often, preferring to stay secluded within her room instead of seeking the company of those around him.  She shouldn't have expected anything else from him; Severus was a man who was enraptured by his solitude.  He seemed fascinated by the texts though he wouldn't tell her why.

            She had a sinking suspicion that she didn't really want to know.

            Sitting in the kitchen with Harry and Ron, Hermione tried to ease her mind with some mind-numbing entertainment.  The boys were well suited for that.  Harry was trying to best Ron in a game of chess, which was always an entertaining sight.  Ron, ever the strategist, would appear to be beaten only to trap Harry in checkmate two moves later.

            Harry was busy calling Ron everything but a kind and wonderful person.

            Harry wasn't a good loser but-- then again-- Ron wasn't exactly a very good winner.  Things evened out.

            The boys fell suddenly silent.  She looked up to see the gaunt and unrevealing face of Severus.  "I may have found something in the book," he said.  Everyone waited in hushed apprehension for him to continue.  "I can't be sure but it looks similar to what you've told me…" he stopped speaking but a look of ill-masked concern crossed his face.

            "And?" Hermione asked.

            Severus sighed, "If I'm correct, we're in a world of trouble."

            "I knew it," Harry groaned.  "The second this whole thing started, I said that I knew this would end in a world of trouble."

            "He did say that," Ron added.  At Hermione's disgusted sigh, he added, "What kind of trouble, Severus?" Hermione smiled a little at that.  Ron, the quarrelsome redhead, was trying to put himself on amicable terms with Severus.  It was mildly cute.

            Severus took a deep breath and said, "I think I've found the passage detailing the room… but we may have stumbled into something much, much worse than we had anticipated."  He paused, trying to find the right words to begin.  

            "I cannot read the entire text but a certain phrase summed it up.  'Enas pou troei tis psuches.'"  He bowed his head for a moment.  "'One that eats souls.'  I suppose that should explain most of it."

            Hermione stared at Severus.  In a flash, she replayed the final moments of her visit to the room.  The presence in the pool, whatever it had been that grabbed her foot, the skeletal hands breaking the surface of the blood…

            She'd been standing in a pool full of…

            "Dementors," Harry finally said.

            "But why?" Ron exclaimed, aghast.  "How?"

            "It makes sense," Severus said clinically as he took a seat.  "You take every part of a man except for his body and soul, and build a creature that has to consume souls to survive.  Little is known about Dementors; I daresay this could be the reason."

            "So you think that room was designed for creating Dementors," Harry asked, leaving Hermione thinking about just how absurd the words sounded.  Severus nodded grimly.  "So we need to…"

            Hermione interrupted, "We need to wait for Nicholas.  We don't know for sure what the book says.  If we rush in there, we could end up dead."

            "I'm with Hermione," Ron chimed in.

            "We may not have that kind of time!"  Harry argued.  "The Dementors aren't loose yet, so they're probably not completed.  If we wait, we could lose whatever chance we have!"

            Ron shook his head wearily.  "That's true," he said.

            Hermione took her voice up a notch.  "But if we dash in there without knowing the facts, we'll be at an even greater disadvantage!"

            "Maybe we should…" Ron began.

            Harry quickly cut him off and matched Hermione's tone, letting his voice take a sharp edge as it rose in volume.  "We don't know what Fudge is up to, Hermione!  You bloody know as well as I do that it can't be anything good if he isn't plastering it across The Daily Prophet!"

            She shook her head in disgust at Harry's irrationality and retorted in a near yell, "All we have is speculation from a text that may not even be the one we're looking for!  We don't _know_ anything!

            "We have to get proof of the room to the Americans so they can do something about it!" Harry spat back, rising from his chair and daring her to challenge him.

            She stood and stalked over to him.  Even though Harry towered over her, she was still determined to stare him down.  "We have to know exactly what's in the room before we try to prove anything!"

            "We can't risk the Dementors reappearing!" Harry yelled.

            "We can't risk our _lives_!" 

            "SILENCE!" Severus' voice echoed through the hollow halls, seizing Hermione and Harry's attention.  "Sit!" he commanded.

            This was not Severus.  This was Snape.  Without another word, the two sat down and stared at the former professor, waiting for him to speak again.  Hermione found it odd that the instincts he'd drilled into them as students still held after so much time.

            It was sort of nice to have something left unbroken throughout this catastrophe that she called her life.

            Long moments passed as the three former students waited for Severus to say his piece.  

            "Neither of you are wrong.  We do need to know what's in the book before we do anything but we also can't waste time waiting for Nicholas to return," he said.  "Potter, get your invisibility cloak.  We're going to Hogwarts."

                        *                                              *                                              *

            If she could catalog this, Hermione would probably file it under We've-got-nothing-left-to-lose-so-let's-do-something-suicidal… along with dozens of other escapades from her time in this very building.

            Aurors were everywhere, patrolling the halls and searching the shadows.

            Even with the advantage of invisibility, this was a dangerous game.  Severus and Hermione crouched beneath Flamel's cloak.  Harry was sharing his own cloak with Ron.

            The only seen or, rather, unseen problem with invisibility was that she and Severus had no clue where Harry and Ron were.  They gave subtle audible clues occasionally but the school was too quiet to chance anything overt.  

            Creeping quietly through the silent halls, Severus vigilantly kept her between the wall and his body.  Each footstep was painstakingly placed for the obvious reasons.  Any slip-up could result in their incarceration.  

            Slowly, they made their way to the Headmaster's office.  Professor McGonagall had been named Headmistress after Albus' disappearance; they'd have to tell her of his fate.

            Hermione wasn't looking forward to that discussion.

            As they turned the final corner leading to the office, they nearly ran headfirst into an old acquaintance.  

            Mad-Eye Moody and his magical eye, the eye that could see even the invisible.  He'd quit shortly after the war with Voldemort ended.  She hadn't known that he'd decided to begin working again.  It didn't surprise her, however.  Moody had quit at least three times during her sixth year and another two in her seventh.

            He claimed that he was too old to continue as an Auror but he always came back within a few weeks after some incident that he would refuse to talk about.  She'd heard through Charlie Weasley that he'd nearly blown up a local pub when he thought he had seen a face looming in the fireplace.  He threw a severing charm at the figure.

            Unfortunately, it was a gas fireplace and completely unconnected to the Floo network.  Nobody was hurt in the small explosion, thankfully.  He'd returned to the Order's headquarters and reenlisted that night, indignant and cocky as ever.

            "Being paranoid is better than being dead," he'd said remorselessly.  "I'd rather know what's trying to kill me."

            No one ever mentioned it again.  Now they stood before the very man who could expose them.

            Even though each froze, they may as well have been prancing about in fluorescent pink jumpsuits screaming, "Look at me!  Look at me!  Look at MEEEEEEEEE!"

            Moody's eye stopped and focused on the space Hermione assumed Harry and Ron hid and then onto her own figure.  Alastor Moody had a very strong dislike for Severus.  She hoped he wouldn't allow that to influence his actions.

            With his magical eye trained on Severus, Moody turned to the opulent statue and intoned, "Habeas Fortitudo*" 

            Moody pretended to examine the wall as they climbed the stair to Dumbledore's… Minerva's office.  The professor sat at her desk enraptured in paperwork.

            "Alastor?" Professor McGonagall said, searching the room.

            "No, Minerva," Severus said as he doffed the cloak, "just an old friend looking for a favor."

            "Severus!  Miss Granger!" Minerva exclaimed.  Harry and Ron revealed themselves as well much to the Headmistress' delight.

            "Now is hardly the time for happy reunions, Minerva," Severus said.  "We have a text that needs to be translated immediately."

            "Immediately?  By whom?"

            "It's Greek, so I suppose Binns is the best choice.  The sooner this can be translated, the better.  We may have another crisis on our hands."  Severus replied as he opened the book to show her.

            Minerva sighed as she stared at the symbols.  "Get to the Room of Requirement," she said, pointing absently to the door.  "Only Alastor knows about it.  You should be safe there.  I'll bring this to you as soon as I can."

            "Thank you, Minerva.  You have no idea what this means to me."

            "If you've involved yourself, Severus, I doubt it can be all that good," she replied smoothly.  "I'll have Binns hurry."

            Without another word, McGonagall and the book were gone.  

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Hermione really disliked the Room of Requirement.  Naturally, it could be a very helpful tool but for the most part, it tended to be more of a pain.

            They had all decided that Harry should create the room as it was the only way Hermione and Ron knew how to find it.  Severus, who had only heard of the room, had to follow Hermione's careful guidance to enter.

            And so they sat in a suite very similar to the one they had in Mexico, the only difference being that the guest room had been quartered off into two separate bedrooms.  Harry had, obviously, taken note of her reconciliation with Severus.

            Even though she knew much about magic, she still was astounded at how the classroom for Dumbledore's Army readily transformed into this.  She sat on the couch with Severus, clutching his hand, waiting for the undoubtedly bad news.

            It wasn't until she looked at his hands that she realized how different they were.  Her hands, unmarred by calluses and scars, looked so dainty compared to his.  Severus had the hands of a man that used them and her hands looked innocent and untainted in comparison.

            While her hands had never cast an Unforgivable, she felt that her eyes had seen more than enough of them to wipe the naivety from her being as quickly as a speck of dust would be cleaned from a window.

            Despite the lack of time, the group still found themselves waiting impatiently as the sun, unconcerned with their predicament, turned the sky into reds and purples before beginning to fade into its inevitable disappearance.  

            It was funny in a 'time doesn't care,' sort of way.  It was odd that she allowed herself to be comforted-- even if Cornelius Fudge brought back the Dementors, the sun would still rise and set on its schedule-- but then again, lots of things had been oddly funny recently.

            She clutched Severus' hand just a little tighter.  He squeezed her hand softly and sighed as he watched Harry and Ron play Wizard's Chess.  Hermione knew that they should be spending this time planning for the worst but couldn't deny the boys some much-needed distraction.

            The blackness of night fell soon enough.  The darkness wrapped itself around the nervous inhabitants the room.  Harry and Ron excused themselves to sleep.  Hermione had a sinking suspicion that they anticipated bad news.

            She could hardly blame them.  Something was rotten in England and it was foolish to think otherwise.  Fudge, whether in benevolence or evil, was overseeing something dreadful.  Ignorance would serve her naught.  She needed to face the facts.  Something was terribly wrong and it once again fell upon her and her friends to rectify it.

            Life wasn't fair.

            A soft "Ahem" distracted her from her angst.  Professor McGonagall stood in the doorway clutching a stack of parchments as she would a vial of holy water amongst a hoard of vampires.

            "Have you found Albus?" she asked with a strange mixture of hope and trepidation in her eyes.

            Severus rose to his feet and reached into his pocket to reveal a gold necklace.  A gold, ruby-encrusted skeleton key dangled from the chain.  Minerva's eyes slid shut as he folded her hands around the precious metal.  "He said you would understand," were the only words that he uttered into the dead silence.

            "Was he in pain?" her strained voice asked.

            Severus lowered his head for a moment before replying, "Not anymore."

            Her greyed head sunk under the weight of the revelation.  "Thank you, Severus.  Thank you for bringing me closure." 

            "Rest assured I would rather be bringing you happier news."

            "Sometimes," she said sadly, "there are no happy endings.  Good does not always win."  Her voice cracked. "And love does not conquer all."

            With those eerie words, Minerva quickly fled the premises.  Severus, though visibly shaken from the normally cheerful professor's statement, thumbed through the translated text in pensive silence.  Hermione was left to contemplate the words of her mentor.

            _Someone will die…_she stared at Severus.  Suddenly, as though she had been transported to another plane of reality, she stared at the face of another Severus.

            He lay upon a stone floor, next to something that looked suspiciously like the pool of blood she'd encountered in the room.  Blood leaked from his eyes, ears and mouth; bruises were peeking from the edges of his torn ropes.  He gaped at her like she was the blessed angel of death before his eyes softly closed and his chest stopped heaving for breath.

            _God, no…_ She shook the thoughts from her mind.  Hermione had never believed in foreseeing and now would hardly be the time to start in such a mindless venture.  Her mind was simply playing tricks on her and nothing more.  She stared at her would-be lover again.

            Severus sat, reading the words she couldn't bring herself to look at.  She knew that Harry was right; they needed to stop Fudge.  It was the beginning of the end, she knew.  Tomorrow, her fate would be determined but now, as concrete and unyielding as it seemed, her future was malleable.  She still had a choice.  Tomorrow would bring another almost certain death into her existence, be it her own or of someone she loved.

            She wouldn't ask why.  'Why' was just a question that wouldn't yield any answers.  It wasn't important anymore.  They needed to stop whatever evil was going on in the Ministry.  Why?  Reasons simply didn't matter any longer.

            "What does it say?" she asked.

            Severus looked up at her like he'd forgotten her presence.  She fought the urge to roll her eyes.  Handing the parchments to her, he sat back and waited for her to read:

            **… something strange happened.  After 28 days had passed, the pool began to quiet and die out.  The attending wizards _(Exact translation "Magic Holders" – Binns)_ were baffled and afraid that the captives were staging an escape.  It wasn't until a weak-willed wizard by the name of Ampelos entered the area that it began to become lively again.  Ampelos soon fell into a fit of shaking _(seizures? – Binns)_ before rising calmly and throwing himself into the pool.**

**            I was only a boy when these events transpired but they remain in my mind.  The images my father, Kephalos, and I, confounded by the terrifying sight unraveling before us, will stain me forever.**

**            The pool began to bubble more vigorously than ever.  The body of Ampelos was spat unceremoniously from the blood.  The mild-mannered man looked as though the flesh had been ripped from his body.  His heart, genitals, nose, eyes, ears, mouth, hands and throat had been torn away.  The pool continued to thrive for another 28 days until it began to die out again.**

**            It was correctly assumed that the pool needed regular sacrifices in order to sustain the energy needed to captivate these criminal men.  Another sacrifice was supplied and the pool lived again.  These victims were provided for the sake of the greater good until another strange occurrence took place.**

**            After 270 days had passed, something unforeseen happened.  The lives of these criminals seemed to decay.  Their essences faded from noticeable existence.  From the otherwise empty pool, hideous creatures were borne.  They looked to be long dead.  Flesh, muscles, and organs were missing from the fiends' bodies.  **

**            Looking to the past, it should have been obvious the observers that this would happen.  Many reported feelings of fear and stress when approaching the pool.  Some even said that they had seen hands or skulls rising above the blood when they were panicked.**

**            These claims were ignored and blamed on taking too much Belladonna.  Oh, how foolish they were to ignore the testimonies of seven people, nearly one third of the group. **

**            We know little of these beings that emerge aside from the following:  **

**These "Life Eaters" **_(rough translation- Binns)_ **will feed from the essence of all that is good in man.  When it nears a living being, all happiness seems to be forgotten.  If its lips mar a man's, he will turn undead **_(The exact translation is "Dead but alive" – Binns.)_****

**            Something to be considered is the amount of time that it takes to complete this transformation.  It is almost the same amount of time required for a woman to birth a child.  Are we bearing these beasts with our magic?**

**            These creatures instill an overwhelming feeling of dread in everyone they near.  Men cannot overcome these feelings and revert to infantile **_(exact translation "baby-like" – Binns)_** states of mind.  Women carrying children will miscarry if exposed to them too long and young children will have nightmares for months.  Babies, who seldom have negative memories, have either died or become seriously corrupted when they reach middle-adulthood after being confronted by the Life-Eaters.  **

**            It is impossible to reverse this procedure.  Many great wizards have tried to rid the world of the evil that we have wrought upon it.  These creatures can only be controlled by one who practices the dark, making them a perfect army for those who wish mankind harm.**

**            We know not how long it would take for them to die naturally.  The first ritual was performed over two hundred years ago _(A Greek year is 336 days (based from the lunar cycle) and a modern year is 365 days so this calculation would be 67,200 days or approximately 184 modern years – Binns.)_  Since the advent of these creatures, these monsters show no signs of age or fatigue.  They continue to thrive and terrorize innocent people with no remorse or regret.  Therefore, I propose the theory that they can live indefinitely so long as living people are around for it to feed upon.**

**            There are no obvious ways to destroy these creatures.  We have burned them and tried Unforgivables _(exact translation "Damned Magic" which is a common phrase for Unforgivable Curses – Binns)_ and nothing has killed them.  We've decided to ban them to an island well away from cultured civilization.  When we discover how to destroy them, we will do so with a relentless fist.  Until then, we can only continue to explore the test subject we've managed to subdue.**

**            My comrades _(Colleagues or coworkers would be more accurate – Binns)_ scoff at my conjectures but I stand steadfast in my beliefs.  These monsters will be the fall of mankind.  I only hope that future generations will absolve us these trespasses against the very fabric of our moral fiber.**

**            May the gods pardon us for the evil that we have unleashed upon the world and may my descendants forgive me for my inability to annihilate it.  **

**-- Aristides, son of Kephalos **

            Hermione didn't know what to think.  The only words she could force past her lips were, "Fudge utilized them…"

            "More than likely, knowing exactly what they are," Severus finished without a pause.  She looked dumbly up at him.  "Are you ready?"

            The implications of those words were more than she could bear.  "No," she said.  Bowing her head and fighting her cracking voice, she brokenly asked, "How soon can we leave?"

            "How soon is now?" Severus replied morosely.  

*Habeas Fortitudo- Latin.  'You have the strength'

****

**_Author's Notes-  I'd like to start by apologizing to the readers for the late update.  I don't really want to go into it but let's just say that someone I really cared about is trying to take me for more than I'm worth (a LOT more than I'm worth, monetarily.)  I've been doing a lot of soul searching and trying to figure out exactly what a friendship is and if it's worth the amount of money that I stand to lose in this frivolous lawsuit._**

****

**_Thank you's will be up later today_**


	16. A Hateful Hollow

Mephistopheles

By- TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypso@hotmail.com) 

Chapter 016- _A Hateful Hollow_

            "So we all know the plan, right?" Harry said, opening his long trench coat to the warm summer air.

            "I still don't think this is a good idea," Hermione said as she pulled her gloves on.  She stared at the parking lot, catching sight of a few American cars and a security van.

            Severus, Harry and Ron gave her exasperated looks before pulling their black masks into place.  Hermione sighed and donned her own.  Things were already bad enough.  Why were they making matters even worse?

            She didn't have time to ponder that thought as Harry and Ron picked up the large cement block and hurled it through the huge glass doors.  Alarms went off almost instantly.  She wasted no time following the men inside.

            She'd been surprised when Ron told her that they wouldn't be able to simply apparate into the store.  Arthur Weasley, in an effort to protect Muggles from being robbed blind by wizards, saw to it that every Muggle store was equipped with apparition detectors.  

            So, they had to do it the old-fashioned way.  The Muggle police would be called but, thankfully, no Aurors.  They estimated less than five minutes to procure everything they would need.  The store was huge, so they'd have to be quick.

            Wal-Mart, the parent store of ASDA*, when open, sold everything from knickers to computers.  While Hermione was tempted by the sleek laptop she ran by, it was hardly the reason she was here.  She dashed to the sporting section and quickly picked up four sets of night-vision binoculars, utility knives, and Swiss-Army knives.  Shrinking and pocketing them, she quickly looked over the shelves to see if there was anything else they could need.  

            "Freeze!" A voice yelled.  She heard something click.  _A gun…_

            She put her hands into the air and slowly turned.  The man wasn't wearing a typical policeman's uniform.  He had to be a member of the store's security personnel.

            "Take off your mask!" the man ordered.  Hermione hesitated.  "Now!" the man bellowed.  She saw a husky form creep behind the guard and wait.  _Do something, Ron_, she silently urged as she brought her hands to her face.

            Ron raised something in his hands and brought it down over the guard's head.  The man grunted as he collapsed to the floor.  She bolted past the guard, ducking down to pick up his pistol.  It wouldn't do to have him wake up armed.

            She dashed to the electronics section next.  Getting cameras was her primary responsibility.

            Once she reached the display case, she used the utility knife to access the cabinet beneath it.  Unable to weigh the pros and cons of each model, Hermione grabbed the most expensive digital and film cameras.  She felt badly, the digital cameras cost nearly $2,000 a piece and she'd taken four of them.  She also took four very expensive video camcorders.  She went to the film and shoved pack after pack into her rapidly filling pockets.  Batteries occupied any remaining space.

            As she began to dash to the exit, she saw a display of walkie-talkies.  Using the utility knife like a hammer, she shattered the glass surrounding the items and took them as well.  

            As she ran through the broken doors, she saw flashing blue lights in the distance.  Once she escaped the empty parking lot and entered the woods, she caught her breath and apparated.

            She was the first one to reach the warehouse they'd selected.  Willing her heart to slow down, she began to remove the stolen items from her trench coat's many, many pockets.

            After unshrinking everything, Harry, Severus and Ron appeared.  She sighed with relief as they silently began emptying their pockets as well.  If they were criminals by trade, they would have just made a large amount of money.  

            Ron had somehow managed to get his hands on four sets of lopping shears, flashlights, baseball bats, three different kinds of hunting rifles with ammunition of every variety, two shotguns, axes, a long rope and a portable heat generator.  Harry's goods consisted of four very expensive looking watches, tasers, pepper spray, mace, over a dozen rolls of duct tape, a large amount of rat poison and --much to Hermione's dismay-- handful after handful of somewhat expensive looking jewelry.  

            He explained that if things didn't go according to plan, they could sell the jewelry for Muggle money, eliminating the need for risky conversions.  As much as she didn't like it, she had to agree.

            Severus, whose job was to find anything that could possibly compromise the makeup of the pool, had returned with several gallons of bleach, nearly a dozen propane tanks, an additional heat generator and dozens of pesticides that contained chemicals she couldn't even pronounce.  He also brought dozens of chocolate bars, canned goods, bread, bottled water, tins of meat and… instant coffee?

            The mission was no longer about self-preservation.  Even after an hour of discussion, no one had been able to reason why Fudge would want to bring the Dementors back but everyone remained convinced that it was not to serve any benign purpose.  Unfortunately, Fudge had the press under his thumb so it would be unlikely that the public would realize this until it was too late.  They needed to kill the Dementors before they emerged.   

            If only Wal-Mart sold napalm… in any case, it was not a bad haul for the first-time thieves. 

            "If we weren't already going to prison," Hermione said as she began to unpack the various cameras and put batteries in them, "we would definitely be going now."

            "If we weren't already going to prison, we wouldn't have just robbed that store," Ron reminded her while carefully watching her put the batteries into the camera.  Hermione ignored him.

            "These cameras," she said to Severus and Ron, "are film cameras.  We'll need to have the film developed with Magical and Muggle fluid.  These are point-and-click cameras.  You point at what you want to take a picture of and you press this button to take the picture.  Make sure your fingers aren't over the lens."

            "We know how to use cameras, Hermione," Ron sighed.

            "_These_," Hermione ignored him once again and pointed to the digital cameras, "are digital cameras.  They're helpful because we won't have to use film but there is no development process.  The picture is stored on the camera and can be extracted when you save what's on this chip," she removed the memory card to show the pure-bloods, "onto something else.  If the place is guarded against Muggle technology then these will be worthless."

            "Wow…" Ron said.

            "These will record videos of what we see," she said, turning on a camcorder and showing Ron and Severus how they worked.  They looked amazed.  She pointed to the small LCD screen and continued, "Whatever registers on this screen will be recorded to the tapes inside if you press the 'Record' button."

            Harry quickly explained each piece of Muggle technology as they readied it for the mission.  He barely stopped Severus from spraying mace into his own eyes.  Hermione began examining the rifles that Ron had brought.  She doubted that Severus and Ron knew how to shoot them.  Fact was, she wasn't exactly sure how to use one either.

            Taking the smallest model, she read the instructions and loaded it.  After casting a silencing charm on the object, she raised it and aimed for one of the crates.  She'd fired her cousin's B.B. gun when she was younger and that hadn't been too difficult.  How hard could this be?

            She took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.

            The deadly weapon kicked violently against her shoulder, throwing her back.  She had not managed to hit the crate but rather took a nice chunk out of the wall nearly six feet above it.

            They were all preparing for meeting with Dementors.  Obviously, a rifle was not going to help her.  Naturally, if these were fully developed Dementors then nothing would help them if no one cast a Patronus charm.

            "I'll be casting the Patronus charm.  I won't be able to use any of these," she said miserably while gesturing to the various rifles.  The men nodded and rose to try.

            Harry's lithe figure did not fare much better than she did and he declared that he would be helping Hermione with the Patronus.  Ron with his stockier frame managed to nick the crate.  Severus managed to hit the corner of it.  Hardly reassuring but it was the best they could expect from the amateur marksmen.  At least they were stable enough to hit the crate at all.

            They quickly discarded the items they deemed useless for the mission.  Even if they shrunk everything, it would be difficult to differentiate the objects with touch alone and speed was by far the most important factor of the infiltration.

            Ron cast a disillusionment charm on the rope before joining the others as they practiced retrieving the tools.  This was it.  This was what she'd been dreading since she'd retrieved Severus all those months ago.

            The extra food and jewelry were left behind.  If anything went wrong, they would be returning here.  If anything went terribly wrong, they wouldn't be needing it.

                        *                                              *                                              *

            Ron was quickly proving to be a very helpful member of the group. 

            Instead of using the elevator/phone booth to enter the Ministry, Ron led them straight into the dilapidated building through the front doors.

            "I must commend you, Mr. Weasley.  I doubt anyone will expect us to enter this way," Severus said.

            "George and Fred," Ron said, ducking his head slightly in embarrassment, "they found this entrance when Dad had to watch them one day.  It isn't exactly glamorous."

            "That's the point, Mr. Weasley," Severus said not unkindly.

            Ron led the group through a maze of hallways, each one littered with more debris than the last.  They reached a door that had been locked with a variety of bolts and padlocks.  Ron removed his axe and began to hack away at the door.  They would have to do without magic for as long as they could; it was possible that any magic cast would set off an alarm, since Fudge could be anticipating their return.  When the splinters and dust settled, they all looked into the dank, pitch-black room.

            Each removed their flashlights and followed Ron in.  He led them down a series of tunnels.  Leaking metal pipes, dusty stone walls and dirt were the only things they could see.  Hermione assumed the pipes must have been used for water.  The heat radiating from them would have been less uncomfortable if it had been winter but instead it made the tunnels unbearably hot.  She could feel the sweat beading on her forehead before it dripped into her eyes, forcing her to swipe her filthy gloved hand over them.

            Eventually, they had to form a single-file line to continue.  They crawled beneath the hot pipes.  Hermione was covered with dust and cobwebs.  No one in the group looked any better.  They finally reached a large grate on the floor.  Ron removed the sheers and began to clip away at it while Harry fastened the rope to one of the cooler pipes. 

            "This will take us to the stair.  We have to be quiet.  You wait here while I go and remove the other grate.  I'll tug on the rope four times when you can follow," Ron whispered.  After Harry finished the knot, Ron wrapped Harry's invisibility cloak around his shoulders and began lowering himself into the pit.  Harry kept a hand on the rope in case something went wrong.

            A minute passed and then another.  She stood silently, looking down into the blackness.  She took the night vision binoculars and watched Ron as he began using the utility knife to unscrew the grate.  She felt arms wrap around her waist.  Placing her free hand onto the offender's hand, she realized it was Severus.

            "How far is he?" he asked quietly.

            "He's working on the final screw now," she replied as she entwined their fingers.  She put the binoculars back into her coat and turned to embrace Severus.  She was terrified, try as she might, she couldn't eliminate the vision of his death from her mind.  _Should I tell him? No… I don't believe in prophecy.  I just have an overactive imagination._

            Even as she told herself that, she couldn't help but wonder if she was wrong.

            "He's ready," Harry hissed.

             "You first," she said.  Harry began to lower himself down the hole.  Severus placed a hand on the rope to determine when Harry left it and focused his flashlight into the hole.

            Hermione took out her night vision binoculars again and stared at Severus through the bright green lenses.  _He's going to die if he goes in there_, she thought over and over again.  She fingered the taser she'd strapped to her thigh.  She had to stop him.  She had to stop him at all cost.  Magic wasn't an option, he'd thwart her before she even got the first word out. 

             "We have to do this," Severus whispered, causing her to jump.  "There's no time for second thoughts."

            "But…"  _Was he reading her mind?_

            "Worry about yourself," he said, letting one of his hands settle onto the rope.  "It's time, Hermione.  You first."  He kissed her lightly before guiding her hand to the rope.

            She didn't have to speculate as to why Severus' words did not calm her.  She quashed her fears and paranoia under a tidal wave of logic.  It was too late to back out and they needed Severus… and prophecy and foresight were only around so frauds like Trelawny could avoid unemployment. 

            _And it isn't as though I've got the 'gift' in any case,_ she thought, calming herself only slightly.

            She climbed down the long rope, thankful that she had not removed her gloves despite the heat.  The only source of light was from above her, where she imagined Severus was watching her.  Much too soon, the light from Severus diminished but a corresponding light peeked from beneath her.  The murky air began to cool and dry as she continued her descent.    She slid down the rope until she dropped quietly onto the floor.  Tugging on the nearly invisible rope four times, she quickly covered herself in the invisibility cloak and ducked into a corner.

            Severus descended several tense minutes later.  She opened the cloak to him.  She and Harry did not need to worry about following each other.  They knew where they were going.  Severus crouched behind her as they crept to the Department of Mysteries.  They passed several bored Aurors as they made their way to the long, torch-lit hallway that would take them into the Department of Mysteries.

            One guard sat alone at the end of the hallway.  They had all planned on this.  She and Severus moved closer to the oblivious guard.  The man was perusing a Gladrags catalogue… pervert.

            Severus gave her a taser as the crept closer and soon she could hear the guard's quiet breathing.  Ever so slowly, they crept behind the man.  They waited a full minute before moving.  Severus leapt from the invisibility cloak, pinned the man's hands against his body and slammed a gloved hand over his mouth being mindful to pinch the man's nostrils shut as well.  Hermione slammed the taser into the man's abdomen and released 100,000 volts* of electricity into his body.

            The man didn't have a chance and went lax almost instantly, his muffled yells ceasing as he fell unconscious.  The door to the Department of Mysteries quickly opened and Severus dragged the limp man in and dropped him unceremoniously on the floor.  Hermione took a cloth and stuffed it into the man's mouth before securing it by taking the duct-tape and wrapping it around the man's head.  Harry and Ron doffed their invisibility cloak and helped her.  Hands, arms, legs and feet were secured in moments. 

            She looked at the guard with slight mirth when they finished, there was no way he would be escaping.  He looked vaguely like a great big silver mummy.  Harry and Ron flushed to bright red as they tried to contain their snickers and even Severus had an amused smirk on his face.  She fought the urge to laugh as Severus covered her with the invisibility cloak again.  

            They finally reached the forbidding plaque and removed their cloaks.  Hermione and Harry took the camcorders and began to record, making sure to catch shots of the group while Severus and Ron took photographs.  If something happened -- if someone died -- these documents were proof that they had been here.

            Maybe these pictures could give some other revolutionary hope.

            Harry and Hermione entered first, carefully documenting everything in the room.  The room's hauntingly eerie quality had increased a thousand-fold.  Bright red blood no longer cascaded from the stone walls… now a chunky black-red substance fell in clotted globs from every crevice in the walls and ceiling.  She felt the thick liquid rain onto her hair and face.  Anxiety quickly began to overtake her but she couldn't be sure if it was from the forming Dementors or from the room itself.  

            Or both.

            The torches that had lit the room only a few months ago had been extinguished.  The pool itself now emitted a dull red light that cast shadows in every corner. 

            She cupped her hand above the camera, preventing the liquid from blocking the lens, as she took fearful steps into this hateful abyss of man's warped creation.  She hated Aristides for leaving a document of his father's handiwork.  She hated mankind for being capable of unleashing this sort of evil upon the unsuspecting world.  She hated that she and her friends were the ones who had to fight it.

            Life wasn't fair, but that simple fact didn't matter.

            Convinced that she had recorded enough, she placed the camera in her coat again and drew her wand.  Severus gave her a short nod.  It was time.

            Severus deposited his camera into his own coat before removing the poisons he'd brought with a grace that belied his speed.  Opening canister after canister, package after package, he began to take hesitant steps towards the pool when he froze.

            "Severus?" Hermione called, instantly wondering if this heinous reality was turning into the horror her nightmares. 

            The older man shook his head and stepped forward again until he reached the edge of the pool.  He dropped the bleach as he collapsed onto all fours.  Keeping her wand drawn, Hermione approached him slowly.  Once she came within a few feet of the pool, she felt what had stopped Severus.  The vision of her parents' bodies floated before her eyes, the screams of her fellow classmates during the final battle with Voldemort flooded her ears.  She distantly heard a crack and the quiet click of her wand hitting the floor as pain radiated from her legs.

            "Ron, keep going!" She dimly heard Harry shout as bursts of white light flashed across the dark room.  A bright silver phantom appeared between herself and Severus.  She looked up to see a misty white stag staring into the pool.  Hermione felt her senses return and realized she had collapsed to her knees.  She rose to her feet again, listening to her knees pop and crack from the fall.  Retrieving her wand, she wiped the black matter from the willow.   

            "What…?" she heard Ron say.  She turned to the Patronus again.  It was hopping from foot to foot, trying to turn away from the pool despite Harry's commands.  Hermione cast her Patronus charm, which yielded the same result a few moments later.

            "What's going on?" Hermione asked, struggling to keep her otter corporeal.

            "Something's wrong.  Don't stop, Ron!" Harry replied, prompting more flashes to momentarily illuminate the room.  

            "Stop the charms!"  Severus ordered as he dragged Hermione away from the pool, "I've never seen a Patronus act like this."

            Before she had a chance to end the spell, her otter along with Harry's stag disbanded in hazes of silver mist.  The feeling of dread returned again and she had no choice but to recast.  "We have to get out of here!" she shouted as her Patronus vanished again; luckily, she and Severus had put enough distance between themselves and the pool to function. 

            As they turned to the door, the sounds of rushing water stopped them all.  Turning slowly, they looked at the pool again, watching it splash more actively in a whirlpool effect.  The blood splashed over the edges of the pool in waves powerful enough to splatter on her coat.  Hermione suppressed the urge to gag as she felt the hot liquid penetrate the material.

            Before their disbelieving eyes, bodies began to emerge from the pool.  They looked very much like human bodies… with alabaster skin stained in red and no bodily hair.    

            The skin, upon its exposure to the musty air, began to dissolve and decay.  She heard choking noises coming from one of her companions as she watched with morbid fascination as the coagulating skin dripped like jelly from the bodies.  

            There was obviously a reason that all Dementors were robed with their faces concealed.  Nausea wracked her and she doubled over to empty her stomach.  The chalky taste of stomach acid lingering in her mouth did nothing to calm her stomach as it heaved again.  

            She heard an unfamiliar voice call out.  She turned to see bright yellow light flood her eyes, blinding her and forcing her eyes shut.  Before she had time to react, her feet left the floor and her body was hurled backwards.

            Her brief flight was halted as she slammed into something and pitched forward, face first.  She opened her eyes just in time to see the churning red blood rushing up to meet her.

****

 ****

***ASDA is the UK version of Walmart.  From what I hear, they're about the same.**

* **Yeah, this number seemed really high to me as well so I went and asked a retailer exactly how this many volts won't kill someone.  Turns out that the amperage of a taser is less than 1/100th of say, a regular household outlet and amperage is what will kill you.  A taser uses EMD (Electro-Muscular Disruption) to override neuro-signals and cause muscles to contract until the person on the business end is on the floor in a fetal position.  Basically, we're talking about causing one bitch of a charley-horse.  A huge thanks to airtaserandgunstore.com for providing me with this info.**

_Author's Notes-  General notes… yes, I think this could quite possibly be the most evil cliffie I've done yet.  Pardon the lateness, this wasn't an easy chapter to write for the obvious reasons.  I had to squeeze a lot of stuff into it in lieu of turning it into 2 chapters (1 purely exposition… and that's no fun!)_

_The next chapter's going to rock.  Stay tuned._

_Specific notes:_

_I got a great email the other day.  Someone wrote me and asked me why our favorite fugitives didn't just use a pensieve and log the memories as evidence to give to the Americans.  It was something that I'd seriously thought about when I began writing this story… and the answer came to me very quickly.  However, once again, the immaculate Grey Lady forgot to fill the readers in on her logic._

_For starters, I'd like everyone to know that I'm going back to add this information into a previous chapter because many other people may be wondering the same thing but are afraid to ask me since they FEAR MY MIGHTY INTELLECT!  *Giggle*  Just kidding.  Well, I know a lot of people aren't gonna go back and re-read a chapter for three sentences, so I'm going to explain it here, too._

_Here's my theory, if anyone has noticed (and maybe the alcohol has screwed with my memory) pensieves have never been used by Ministry officials.  Not during the Deatheater trials or during Harry's trial.  It seems like a really easy thing to do, doesn't it?  With a few moments worth of work, you can see everything that happened in a specific instant._

_However, (I'd like to reference OotP) when Marietta was ratting out Harry and the D.A., Kingsley modified her memory.  Now, I'm pretty sure that if she were to put her memories into a pensieve, her memories would either be (1.) the modified memories or (2.) Seriously messed up and/or mixed.  Option #1 seems more likely unless some sort of "Bertha Jorkins" tactic were used. _

_And plus-- let's face it-- the story wouldn't be nearly as entertaining if it were that easy.  Admit it, you ALL want to go back to that room.  Why?  Because, deep down, you're all as morbid as I am.  Just kidding.  You're all cool._

_Jo, this chapter is dedicated to you for asking questions as well as my amazingly fantastic beta, Moaning Myrtle.  Also (and this is in hindsight *DOH*) I'd like to recognize __hopelsydreaming for asking more questions than ANYONE!  Not that I don't appreciate it!  You three rock._

_Thank you's will be up tonight or tomorrow._


	17. Filthy Little Puppets

**Mephistopheles**

By: TheGreyLady (immaculatecalypsohotmail.com)

Chapter 17 _Filthy__ Little Puppets_

As she felt the scalding blood surround and choke her, Hermione did what any other rational human being would have done.

She screamed.

She instantly regretted it. The sharp metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth and nearly caused her to vomit again. Grounding her feet into the shallow depths, she pulled her dripping body from the pool of blood. Her blood-soaked skin shined even brighter in the red-hued light.

Wiping the cloudy scarlet haze from her eyes, she gaped at her surroundings. Slowly, she turned her head to dare and see whatever she'd collided into. The voices of her companions rang in her ears as she found herself inches from a Dementor's face.

This close, the Dementor looked even more frightening. The whites of its eyes were coal black and it had no iris. The pupil was a simple orange point no larger than the head of a pin. Its eyes rolled as though it did not see her; she didn't think that it could.

She couldn't think, couldn't blink, couldn't even breathe. The creature loomed closer, its congealed flesh dripping and vacant eyes rolling. It released a sound somewhere between a hiss and a screech accompanied by loud rattling. For a moment, she thought she felt her pulse flicker with the same clattering tempo as this monster's breath.

Then she was suddenly no longer in control. Despite her mind's desperate pleas, she felt rooted to the spot where she stood. Feeling oddly detached from her body, Hermione became aware of it shaking.

Her body unwillingly folded in on itself, coming tauntingly close to the Dementor's face as she slowly sank into the blood again. She gaped at the monster in horror while trying to remain brave. It was impossible to be courageous in the face of this aberration of nature. With thin tendrils of gooey flesh separating its upper and lower lips, it opened its mouth and she watched as several of its rotting teeth dropped from its gaping maw. Before her eyes, its tongue shriveled as it released a noxious gas through its decayed lips.

It was all she could do to silence her shriek and slam her mouth shut in terror.

The feeling of dread intensified a thousand-fold and with no conscious volition, she felt her legs rise towards her chest as she curled into a fetal position against her will. Her jaw dropped open, letting the warm fluid seep into her mouth as the left side of her face was submerged. One eye saw only red and the other terrified eye beheld several more Dementors swooping down upon her with the wretched rattling of its breath shaking her to her core.

Unable to stop herself, she breathed the toxic fluid. The hot blood flooded her lungs, forcing her to cough violently. If she had been able to fight the onslaught of misery, she would have. Instead she felt her head loll back and she accepted her untimely death without regret, as she took another gasp of fluid into her vulnerable lungs and sank even deeper.

Suddenly she felt peaceful, as though she hadn't a care in the world. With her eyes wide open, she stared up -- whichever direction that may have been. Vaguely she felt blood dribble from the corners of her mouth as her face once again broke the surface of the unholy pool. She saw the features of the Dementor and suddenly the mutated face -- hideous as it had seemed before -- became that which she did not know but instantly recognized. Everything was seen though rose-tinted lenses. While the recognition of this delusion tore through her mind, she remained unable to feel fear.

She felt empty and lifeless. She felt hollow and absent… and for some reason, in that moment, it was the greatest feeling in the world.

Her sanity screeched that what she was seeing was an illusion, but a soft, haunting chanting drowned it out. She believed suddenly that everything was going to be okay. Severus would be fine; Ron and Harry would be fine. All was perfect and right in the world. No logic could break through the eerie uncanny peace she felt at that moment… not even her friends' and lover's shrieks.

Everything would be right in the end. They would understand that soon. She felt her mouth slip open wider as the Dementor bent lower.

She ceased to be in a pool of blood. She ceased to be in a room that had spawned countless nightmares. She ceased, for a moment, to be at all. The void was pleasant… welcome, even. Nothing mattered because nothing was all that existed.

No more nightmares, no more life, just this overpowering nothing that would, somehow, absolve her.

In a silver flash, everything came back into perspective. The Dementor fled before the white hissing serpent that guarded her. The face of God once again became the face of inexplicable horror.

"Mobilicorpus!" she heard Ron shout as she was lifted from the pool like a baby from baptism. Barely aware of her surroundings, she stared at the ceiling until she felt sticky wet stones press against her back. She couldn't remember why she was here.

The sensation caused her to blink and forced her to hack the blood from her screaming lungs. Her sight was clouded in scarlet-red and she errantly brought her palms over her eyes, desperately trying to refocus her attention. When her vision finally cleared, she stared at the silvery mist of the serpent. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to touch it but she couldn't make her hands obey her brain.

"Wake up, Hermione!" Ron's voice shouted from a distance.

"Help her!" Severus called. He sounded so sweet. _So, he does care._

She shifted her blurred concentration and saw Severus casting the Patronus that saved her life while Ron rushed over. A serpent… how appropriate… her head flopped to the side as she beheld none other than Cornelius Fudge. Fudge looked angry… surprise, surprise. She felt heavy slaps fall onto her cheeks. _Why am I here? What's going on?_

"Merlin! Hermione! Wake up!" Ron yelled as she saw his hand cross her face again and again. She thought that Ron was straddling her chest, hollering as though she couldn't hear him. It was really getting annoying. She really should do something about that… later. She was too tired to act now.

"Hermione!" More blows struck her partially numb face. She could tell that Ron was hitting her in earnest now from the way he was throwing his shoulder back, his blood-streaked hand passed before her vision. _Am I bleeding? _she thought confusedly, trying to make sense of it in her mind. Adrenaline began pumping wildly through her, though she wasn't sure why, causing her breathing to quicken and her limbs to shake.

"Stop," she managed to choke out as Ron continued to smack her, "Stop it!"

Her vision cleared a little more and she grasped the offending hand. Ron looked at her with bewilderment before she managed to push him away. He looked infinitely relieved for a brief moment before heaving himself off of her and departing more quickly than her eyes could follow.

She rolled over, propping herself up on all fours and crawled towards her comrades. The slippery blood impeded her movement and, try as she might, she could not force her limbs to coordinate with each other. Her entire body was shaking. She was slowly coming back into her right state of mind, recalling the events that brought her to this place, leaving her shocked and confused.

The camera…

With great fear, Hermione dug her shaking hands into her soaked pockets. The camera was wet and broken; the film was ruined. Pushing her wet, blood-reddened hair away from her face, she fought back the tears. The serpent crossed her vision again, keeping the Dementors at bay.

"Avada Kedavra," someone cried, wrenching her attention from the lost evidence. It was Fudge's voice; he stood there with four figures, each masked in black robes.

This was definitely not good.

The intended target, namely Ron, dove out of the way to avoid the curse as he threw a stunning spell. Hermione fumbled for her wand as she watched another curse hit Harry. _What do I do?_ She felt her brain click into gear. The assailants weren't paying attention to her, considering her disposed of for the fight. Severus was busy keeping his Patronus active. Harry and Ron were doing their best to keep the enemies at bay.

They were outnumbered. She had one chance to even the odds. Raising her wand, a single thought repeated in her mind, _I cannot miss. I cannot miss…_

She quietly cast a full-body bind and watched triumphantly as she hit her mark. The masked figure guarding Fudge went rigid before toppling to the ground like a lone domino.

And then there were four.

Having just proven that she was not out of the fight, the goons threw curses at her with uncanny speed. She pressed herself against the bleeding wall, feeling the sticky liquid drip over her drenched body and focused on dodging the attacks and casting shields on her companions. She heard Ron scream and turned to see him collide headfirst into the wall. Despite the cacophony of shouted spells, she still heard the sickening crack of Ron's skull slamming into the unrelenting wall.

She pulled herself to her shaking feet. If they weren't playing fair, there was no reason she should be taking the moral highroad. She summoned a flame and cast it into the face of her enemy as he attempted to rush her.

The man fell back, screaming as he ripped his burning mask away from his face. The scent from the burning of his long, white-blonde hair invaded her nostrils…

… long blonde hair? She froze for a moment, unable to overcome her dread. No… no, no, no, no, no. It wasn't possible. It _just_ wasn't possible. The man looked up and stared at her with furious brown eyes.

Brown eyes… It wasn't a Malfoy-- or it wasn't any Malfoy that she knew-- she almost sighed with relief. Apparently, it really _wasn't_ possible. The man raised his wand, taking advantage of her inattention. She gripped her wand more tightly as she readied herself to throw another attack, knowing that she would never utter the incantation in time.

The man hissed the beginnings of the Killing Curse. _This is it…_ she thought when a black-clad form crashed into her attacker, throwing his aim off-kilter. She quickly cast another body bind and looked at her rescuer.

Severus.

"Hermione," he growled, "cast your Patronus!"

She nodded and tried to focus her energies into executing the spell, which was incredibly difficult to do as she was coated in blood and terrified at the events taking place around her. She attempted the spell twice, each time producing only a light mist. The failure only raised doubt in her mind, making the spell even more difficult.

"Calm yourself," Severus' words managed to penetrate her thoughts in a remarkably soothing tone.

Garnering every happy memory she could recall, she fought to remember her parents-- her childhood -- without the infinitely foreboding thought that they were forever gone. She managed to release the corporeal otter; it was hardly a daunting figure but the Dementors seemed fearful of it all the same. Severus' serpent dissipated as he cast a shield and a disillusionment charm on her before reentering the fray. Fortunately whatever had been corrupting the otter before had ceased and she was able to survey the fight with a detached focus.

Harry was barely holding his position, his legs violently quaking. She could see cuts oozing blood on his arms. Severus was busy throwing spells that she had never heard before, quickly dispatching another foe.

_Two…_

Severus was using dark magic; funny how that didn't affect her in the way she thought it should have.

Hermione crept to Ron's still body, valiantly trying to avoid detection. There was blood… it was staining Ronald Weasley's hair a different shade of red. Fear crawled through her as she tried to see if Ron was breathing. She pushed it down-- if her fear overcame her Patronus, it would vanish; she doubted she would be able to summon it again. Her shaking hand reached for Ron's neck, feeling the faint flutter of his pulse.

She knew a simple reviving spell that could bring him back into the fight but she couldn't cast it and maintain the Patronus. Ron was alive if a bit unstable; she forced herself to take comfort in that. She heard another Killing Curse being cast. She tore her attention from Ron and watched in explicit horror as the green bolt hit Harry.

Though she knew that Harry's mother protected him from this curse, she remained shocked at the display that followed. He stood frozen for a moment, his entire body stiff as metal as the green light was absorbed into his body. Then, a flash of white so brilliant she was temporarily blinded illuminated the room. The spell was rejected from his body. She saw a green streak bolt back into the body of man who had dared to cast it.

The man collapsed to the floor. Hermione knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was dead and, oddly, that didn't bother her at all. Harry continued to stand, gasping as though he had run a marathon and shaking like he was standing in the middle of the Arctic tundra. His body quickly became pliant once again and fell limply to the ground with blood oozing from his scar and dripping steadily onto the stone floor.

Now there was one.

The odds had been leveled in their favor. Fudge and Severus stood together, poised for combat with their wands pointed at one another. She reached for Ron's taser; hers was covered in blood and she wasn't about to risk using it. If she could get close enough, she could disable Fudge and still keep the Patronus going. She began to inch away from Ron, staying near the walls and the shadows of the room.

"Where's the girl?" Fudge said in a deadly quiet voice.

"She's safe," Severus said calmly, keeping his wand aimed at the Minister. "Why are you doing this?"

"You're a traitor, Snape," Fudge hissed.

"You know which side I fought for."

"Clever of you. If the Dark Lord succeeded, you could continue pretending to support Him. If He lost, you would be regarded as a hero," the portly man snarled, a sound she'd never heard from him before. Something about his words… something was setting sirens off in her head. _What is it,_ she thought frantically,_ What is wrong with this?_

"You, Snape," he continued. "You deserved this more than any of them."

In the span of a moment, she replayed the words in her mind until she stumbled onto the offending phrase. _The Dark Lord_… she'd never heard anyone use that phrase except for…

Severus ceased to breathe, his entire body going completely rigid. "You were playing both sides," he whispered in astonishment.

If Voldemort was Lucifer, then the sneering man before her was Mephistopheles… the devil's minion…. Or perhaps Azrael, cast down from righteousness by his sheer opportunism. In any case, the danger had increased. They were not dealing with a good man-- they were dealing with the devil's bitch.

It made sense. If Fudge had been a sympathizer then, in theory, he would still be Minister of Magic if Voldemort took over. Suddenly, Fudge's claimed ignorance of Voldemort's return took on a whole new light. He knew and had just been biding time. Hermione felt ill and doubled her efforts to keep the Patronus going despite the onslaught of unhappy feelings.

"Now, Severus. You can't rightly expect me to admit to such slander," Fudge sneered.

"Why this?" Severus spat, ignoring Fudge's jab and tilting his head toward the pool.

"I was at an impasse, I suppose," he replied. "What was I to do? Let your lot run free? The people would have been most disappointed, Snape. Besides, at least one of you knew about my 'friend' and I couldn't risk that getting out. People would have been most upset…" Fudge taunted. "Most upset, indeed."

Hermione realized with that statement that Fudge was stalling. If they waited any longer, reinforcements would arrive and there would be no chance for escape. No trial would take place; they would all take the Dementor's kiss. There was no time. She needed to distract Fudge.

"Avada Kedavra," she shouted. The words may as well have been "abra cadabra." She knew she couldn't cast the killing curse even if she weren't preoccupied with casting the Patronus. She just hoped to seize Fudge's attention long enough for Severus to gain the upper hand.

God help her, she was going to win this one. Hermione Jane Granger didn't know the definition of defeat… well… not in the applicable sense.

Like clockwork, Fudge spun in the direction of her voice, allowing Severus the opportunity to stun Fudge, who fell to the ground like a trash-bag filled with chunky soup. The Dementors were getting restless and Hermione's otter was continuing to drain her energy; she shook her head to clear her mind and leaned against the filthy wall again, trying to conserve her stamina.

Severus quickly charmed three portkeys, placing one on Harry and one on Ron. The boys quickly vanished. He came to her and released the disillusionment charm; the sensation was pleasant, giving her a warm rush of energy.

Crouching next to her, Severus charmed another portkey. She grasped it.

Footsteps echoed through the hallways. People were running to the room. Voices sounded in the distance. Naturally, help wouldn't arrive until the fight was over.

"Drop your Patronus on three." Severus said slowly, as though he were praying, despite the urgency. "One…"

The footsteps came closer. Hermione could hear their voices calling to each other; she recognized a few of them. Kingsley's deep baritone voice bounced from the walls.

"Two…"

The voices came closer. They were right outside the door. She couldn't help but look as they burst over the threshold. Four Aurors, each clothed in the standard uniform, stared dumbly at the room.

"Dear Merlin! What on Earth…?" one of them said, aghast.

"Three!" Severus softly called. Hermione released her Patronus and felt the familiar tug at her navel, allowing herself to promptly vanish from the Aurors' sight.

They re-appeared in the warehouse.

Harry still lay unconscious and Ron remained the same. Hermione held little hope for the latter. She hadn't realized in the room's poor lighting exactly how much Ron was bleeding. His still face was a ghostly white, making his freckles appear to be even darker in comparison, and his hair was soaked. She hadn't acted quickly enough.

Severus released her and quickly moved to Ron. He gently brushed the discolored hair aside from Ron's pale face as he examined the younger man's bleeding head.

"It's a concussion," Severus said moving to one of the bags they'd left, "A bad one. We need to get him to a hospital. He may become comatose if we don't." He strode back to her and pulled a chocolate bar from the bag. "Eat," he ordered as he opened another bar and ate a section of it.

She placed the semi-sweet chocolate chunk onto her tongue. As soon as the first piece was swallowed, hope surged through her… if a hospital could save him then it couldn't be as bad as it seemed. _Wait_… her mind halted her elation. "We can't go to the hospital. We'll be arrested. Maybe Nicholas…?"

Severus took on a look of contemplation before stating, "We may not have that much time. Charm a portkey for Ronald's home. His parents… they can help him better than we can. They can get him to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts is crawling with Aurors, Severus." She sighed and shook her head, "After tonight, there are only going to be more of them. There is no way that Madam Pomfrey is going to be able to treat him without detection."

"Then they can contact Lupin," he replied. At her questioning glance, he continued, "He trained as an Auror for the Order. Basic medical training is included. He may not be able to cure Ronald but he should be more than capable of stabilizing him until professional help can be summoned."

Shaking her head, she took her bloody camera and focused on the Burrow, the place where she'd spent so many holidays. Once the spell was cast, she stumbled to her fallen companion, intent on taking him to his parents. Severus seized the portkey before she reached Ron.

"Potter needs to return to Rábida," he calmly stated. "He could wake soon. You should be there."

"The Weasleys won't appreciate your bringing Ron in this condition."

"I doubt they'll appreciate you either," he replied, grasping the portkey and vanishing. Hermione cursed for a moment before shifting to examine Harry. Aside from the blood marring his face from the reopened scar and the several cuts on his body, he looked to be merely sleeping off a night of drinking.

She sent a silent thank-you to the heavens-- to Lily Potter-- before activating another portkey to the small island of Rábida. Once there, she decided to place Harry into his own bed to let him rest comfortably.

Coaxing him into a sitting position, she removed his jacket and shirt. It didn't take long for her to cleanse and seal the cuts and gashes Harry had suffered in the fray. Bending down, she removed his shoes and socks before pulling the blanket over his lax form.

When she'd convinced herself that he was comfortable, Hermione quickly moved to the bathroom, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in her wake. She passed a mirror during her hasty journey and couldn't help but stare at herself.

She looked dead. The blood on her body had thickened and begun to dry. Even through the dark red, she could see the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Hastening to the bathroom, she stripped away her clothing, letting the drenched items drop heavily to the floor before practically leaping into the shower. She watched with morbid fascination as the blood on her body mingled with the water and drained away.

After letting the hot stream rinse the blood from her for a few minutes, she began the tedious process of attempting to sterilize her skin. Her hair was washed several times and no part of her body escaped the assault of the lava soap she wielded.

Try as she might, she could not get the red stains from beneath her nails. With a determination that bordered on mania, she raked her nails across the soap, trying everything humanly possible to rid herself of any physical remnants of the ordeal she'd just survived. It was not a hopeless cause; after a few tense minutes, she managed to accomplish her goal.

As she prepared to get out of the shower, she noticed the water running across the white tile taking on a pinkish tint. Quickly checking herself for cuts, she paused as the realization dawned on her. She closed her eyes and touched her hand between her legs before bringing it before her weary eyes for inspection.

The tips of her fingers were bright red. Her period had started.

Blood… just like Ron's blood… just like Harry's blood… just like the blood in the pool that she had spent so long trying to wash off. She was bleeding and would continue to do so. Blood coursed through her veins. It was the very thing that kept her alive.

The blood she'd just scrubbed away had once belonged to other people just as the blood leaking from between her legs belonged to her. Everything in that room came whirling back-- the nightmares, the visions and the even more macabre reality. Fear for Ron, fear for Severus, fear for Harry and fear for herself encompassed her.

Her hands and legs shook as she lowered herself to the hot floor. Choked sounds escaped her and bounced off of the walls as she bit her lip to keep from crying. She retched again and again, her stomach roiling and her head spinning. She sat on the tile as the hot water beat down upon her naked frame and did the only thing she could think of.

She buried her face in her hands and wept.

After a solid fifteen minutes of crying, Hermione pulled herself together. _Tears_, she thought, _are not going to change anything_. She took care of the bleeding, dried herself off and left the bathroom after wrapping a towel around her body. Hoping the evidence of her breakdown was not terribly obvious, she changed into an oversized set of pajamas and returned to Harry's room.

Severus sat staring at the Boy-Who-Lived and the bloody handprints and footprints that evidenced her presence there.

"Are you all right?" Severus asked quietly before she'd even announced her arrival. It wasn't surprising; the older man always seemed to know when someone else was in the room. He turned to look at her. "You've been crying."

"I had to," she said unapologetically. "How's Ron?"

"His parents moved him to the headquarters for the Order. His mother was summoning Lupin and Poppy when I left. I sealed a note for him once he wakes, telling him to return to Flamel's."

"I don't know why I didn't think of that."

"Luckily, Molly and Arthur are in a better state of mind to care for their son than we are. Hermione," he paused for a moment, seeming to debate his choice of words, "I had no idea…"

He stopped speaking. She sighed as he rose to his feet and embraced her. "If it's any consolation, it wasn't nearly that bad when Harry and I went the first time."

"That is not what I meant," he whispered into her hair, lightly kissing her neck.

"That's disgusting," Harry's semi-prone body grumbled from the bed.

_Author's Notes- Well, it took me an absurdly long time but I finally got the chapter to be what I wanted. What you, the reader, have just finished is the final version of a scene that I've written, changed, rewritten, changed, rewritten, tossed, started over, changed, etc. There are (as of now) 4 completed alternate chapters (and a shameless number of incomplete chapters) that this one inevitably replaced. I've tried to incorporate the absolute best of those chapters into this. I hope this is as good as the wait merits._

_To give you some ideas of where the alternate chapters deviate- Ron is hit with Avada Kedavra in one, Ron is completely okay in another, Flamel comes in and saves the day, Hermione narrowly escapes the pool and in the first draft, I accidentally killed Snape and the showdown would have taken place between Harry and Fudge._

_Yeah… that last one was completely unacceptable. I got very angry when I realized what I'd done._

_I knew that the conclusion of this fight had to take place between Snape and Fudge. The one thing I dislike the most is probably the fact that Hermione has to remain a bystander (since someone has to keep the Patronus going) for the actual fight. Also, if she were to be knocked out or hurt, she'd miss everything going on. Funny thing is, that's also the thing I like the most about it because she has a vantage point to see and internally comment on everything that's going on and her inability to assist more brings up all sorts of feelings of helplessness._

_Next chapter shouldn't have the kind of wait that you guys had to suffer through. Questions/comments/requests to be on the update list can be left in reviews or emailed to me personally._

_Special thanks go to my beta and friend, Kate, who got very concerned at my sudden absence._

HOLY SHIT! I am really behind on you guys! Since a lot of you left these reviews a while ago, I'm going to leave the reviews as well. All in alphabetical order (by name):

AJ Mercedes (3-22, chapter 13) Congratulations on making me cry (of course, any character death does that) and inspiring me to leave you a review. Good Dumbledore death scene, really. And I'm curious now about how you are going to clear Snape. I was only half following your story before -- after all, if all they had to do was find Dumbledore, it wasn't going to be especially difficult to restore Severus to the land of the legally living and ensouled, but now it's getting interesting.

_TGL- You'll have to see how/if Snape gets cleared. I'm glad I've caught your interest!_

Alynna Lis Eachann (3-21, chapter 13) I think it would have been kinda cheesy if Albus had lived; I like the way you let him go. Liked Lenore, too... 'my lost Lenore.' Can't wait to see if Sev and 'Mione are really back to square one, or if Sev has some sense in him.

_TGL- I hope the subsequent chapters answered your questions! Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews!_

(3-28, chapter 14) Yey, points to me! I feel adequate. Great job with Sev and Hermione; I don't know if I've said it before, but I like the way the relationship is moving slowly, and on-again-off-again. Sev doesn't seem the type to feel secure going in head-first.

_TGL- I'm getting a lot of notes on how people like the relationship, I'm really glad that people are enjoying it. I did some heavy debating about how it would progress and stuck with this because it seemed the most realistic (although, if I were going to write it the way I truly think it should be done, you guys would be reading another 60 chapters of exposition and baby-steps alone!) Thanks!_

(4-13, chapter 15) Creepy. Can't wait to see how they plan to fight this...

_TGL- Evil Laughter!_

(4-27, chapter 16) Walmart break-in! Yeah! Wooho! I can just imagine Severus and Ron running around, trying to decide what strange Muggle thing they should or should not take. Can't wait for more.

_TGL- I'll have to send you the chunk I left out about Snape spraying mace in his eyes. I left it out because it was a little too funny. Smile_

Amazon Summons 3-26 (chapter 13) Okay, so maybe my hopes were smashed but that's a;right. I'll survive. You should stick to your guns and end this the way you want to. No fluff wanted anyway. I do like how you had Hermione stand up for herself... Lenore...Raven?? Please write more soon, I am worried about Severus!

_TGL- MWA HA HA HA HA! The story ain't over yet!_

(4-13, chapter 15) This was wonderfully thought out and skillfully written! I await your next update!

_TGL- Okee dokee! Here you go!_

Amsev (3-21, chapter 13) Wow. What an amazing chapter. Your writing is very true and lifelike (and "life-like" when dealing with how relatively peaceful death happens) Please keep writing this (and other things). You have a gift.

_TGL- You know, I think I will keep writing but only as long as you guys are out there to help me along! Thanks for the great review!_

Anarane Anwamane (3-22, chapter 13) oh merlin

_TGL- I said something like that, too!_

Audra (4-28, chapter 1) did you get the idea for the chapter title 'Hell is Other People' from Satre's play 'No Exit'?

_TGL- You aren't the first person to ask that but the answer is no. "Hell is Other People" is really just a title I pulled out of my head. I will be reading Satre's play soon._

Diotima Mantinea (3-21, chapter 13) As Hidden Allusion said, "And the plot keeps on thickening!" I have to say though, that I did not expect for you to kill off Dumbledore... Beautifully writen scene that I got frustrated with though... What is in that book?  
The Lenore comment... Are you talking about the comic strip?  
Well, till the next chapter, I'll be waiting for more angst between my favorite couple... :) Update soon!

_TGL- I think a lot of readers didn't think I was going to do it, namely because I sort of wanted to lead them in that direction to make the death more of a shock. The contents of the book have been revealed and the Lenore comment was a direct reference to "The Raven" by Edgar Alan Poe. Thanks for reading and responding!_

Electryone (4-14, chapter 8) I just read the first eight chapters in one sitting and I love them! I'd read all of them if I didn't have class right now (but I have plans to finish what you have written when I get home). I think that the way you portray all of the characters is wonderful (although the Patil sisters deserve to be Crucioed). You should post updates to WIKTT--you would get more readers, which your wonderful writing deserves.

_TGL- I do post updates to WIKTT, smile Thanks for another great review!_

(4-16, chapter 13) I don't think that kiling off Albus is a bad thing (I did it too). There's a good chance it might happen in canon, also.  
The reference is Edgar Allan Poe, isn't it?

_TGL- HA! I knew there were more of us! We should start a club! LOL! Just kidding. Thanks for the review._

(4-16, chapter 15) I probably should have waited until this was completed to read up to this chapter, because I'm now completely hooked. I hope that Hermione's vision isn't the truth. I like Moody in your story. He's a funny (and weird) guy. Good luck writing the next part--it seems like it will be important for the story!  
Sorry to hear about the problems in your life. I hope that they are resolved for the better.

_TGL- Moody strikes me as the kind of guy that will try to walk away from a project several times and fail every single time. He also strikes me as paranoid enough to, say, almost blow up a bar. I'm glad you're hooked, that means I'm doing a good job. Let me know if I start to suck._

(4-27, chapter 16) Another good chapter. I'm embarrassed to admit that the penseive idea didn't even occur to me until you mentioned it. It's more fun without penseives anyway.

_TGL- I'm anal about detail, so I had to figure out every course of action and negate it to make the story work. LOL! Thanks!_

Evanescence4 (3-23, chapter 13) You haven't lost me. And to be honest, I would've been disappointed if you had given him the miraculous recovery.   
You took a chance and you benefitted greatly. If people can't stand to read your story because of a character death, then they weren't truly fans of this to begin with. Rowling killed off Sirius for the story -- who knows if he comes back or not, that's up to her -- but she probably risked a great deal in doing that. People were probably very upset but they got over it because of how it progressed the story.   
That's the way things go. So pat yourself on the back, you're doing an amazing job and I will continue to read, no matter what you throw out for us.  
Keep up the good work,  
- Eva

_TGL- Pats self on back Thanks! You rock!_

Ezmerelda (5-03, chapter 2) As for your newly created word, new word creation is what makes the English language a living language!

_TGL- Damn skippy!_

(5-03, chapter 16) I actually cried out loud when I realised that there was no more (just yet)!  
I found your story listed on Leyna Roundtree's favourites, and just had to read it. Now, I'm adding it to the long (too long) list of fics I Am Currently Reading (As They Are Written). I really should spend more time writing than reading, but I've got writer's block in a terrible way.  
Anyway, thanks for writing such an engrossing (and gross, don't forget gross, your descriptions of the chamber are just this side of sick making) story. I am looking forward to the next chapter with great anticipation and possibly a little dread... "

_TGL- AWWWWW! Thanks for mentioning where you found my fic. It makes me happy to know who's listing me as a favorite. This story should be wrapped up within a month or so (muses permitting) Thanks for the great review!_

Hidden Allusion (3-15, chapter 12) Wow. And the plot keeps on thickening! Please don't kill off Dumbledore! There's got to be a happy ending! This is another great chapter - very moving.

_TGL- Deep Breath I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry… There can still be a happy ending, though!_

KLyn (5-13, chapter 16) I just discovered this, and I'm terribly impressed. This is well-written, with a strong plot and good characterizations. And the room in the Departmnt of Mysteries is seriously, disturbingly creepy. Great work!

_TGL- Thanks!_

Lady Penwrath (4-25, chapter 15) I can't believe that I only just found this! It's AMAZING! I am now totally and completely obsessed, and need more. I absolutely love your portrayal of Severus, and it's wonderful to read your version of Hermione; she's just as I imagine her to be! I just wish that Severus and Hermione will finally get together before someone else dies... and that brings to mind what I mean to say before: I LOVED it when Hermione refused Severus. Not because she refused him, but why she refused him. I thought that that was just very mature of both her and you. Oh, and I really hope no one dies! Can't you do something where they realize that not all visions are real? Because if one of your lovely characters dies, I think I might die. Really and truly. And if Hermione's vision proves true, I KNOW I'll die. So, to not be the sole cause of my impending doom, UPDATE!

_TGL- Well, I can't give out any spoilers, but I think you'll like the way this story will progress. Thanks for the great review._

Lama- (March 21, 2004, chapter 13) meh, you haven't lost me. i think it made it more interesting.

_TGL- YAY! Thank you for the review!_

Levna Rountree (3-28, chapter 14) Thanks again for a great fic. I cried too. Always do when characters are hurt or in pain, I guess it shows how well the characters are written as well as how well readers love the story. Can't wait for the next enstallment...

_TGL- You do not need to be thanking me. I should be thanking you. I love the feedback I get from you guys! Thanks!_

RADKA (4-29, chapter 14) Âéâëßï áðü óêïôÜäé? Shouldn't that be Âßâëïò ôïõ "êüôïõò or some such?

_TGL- I'm going to assume that you're being serious. What you see above is what I'm looking at right now. FF.net did not like Greek text, so it butchered it a little bit. If you'd like, I can send you the original word file so you can see what it was supposed to look like. Just email me and let me know. Thanks for the review!_

Risi- (3-21, chapter 13) Sniff sniffle sob. (wah!) Okay, I'm done. I have to admit I didn't expect Albus to die, but I understand that sometimes when you need a story to go where you want, sometimes a favorite character is going to have to bite the big one. I suppose I'll even recover if JKR decides to kill off Snape, not that there won't be a whole lot of weeping and wailing going on. I'm just hoping she doesn't decide to make him evil and working for Voldemort after all. I'll be very dissapointed then, it sort of ruins the whole redemption theme. But, anyway, Dumbledore mentioned a book with no title. I'm sure it's important, I just hope Hermione remembers about it.

_TGL- JKR WILL NEVER kill off Snape. If she does, I'll go after her myself! Hermione has remembered the untitled book and, relax, there's no way in hell I'm going to turn Snape evil. I can only hope that JKR won't do the same (I donl' think that she will.)_

(3-22, chapter 1) You know I keep forgetting things I want to mention, perhaps I should start keeping notes when I read. ;-) Anyway, the only Lenore I can think of that had any reference to birds also is Poe's The Raven. I think, though, there was also a Beetlejuice cartoon episode that featured Poe, Lenore and a raven.

_TGL- CONGRATS! The Lenore/Bird line was a direct reference to the literary work of the Raven by E.A.P! I don't doubt the possibility of the existence of a Beetlejuice cartoon with a Raven, but that wasn't what I was referencing. ;) _

(4-15, chapter 15) Fudge is trying to make more Dementors? What maggot crawled into his brain to give him that idea? Was the dead auror a sacrifice and have there been others? How can he justify that?   
That was a scary vision Hermione had, I just hope it wasn't a prophetic one.  
I was suprised Moody didn't turn them in, but maybe he has an inkling that something isn't right in the ministry and figures Snape is the lesser of the evils.  
Looking forward, as always, to the next part and good luck. I hope everything gets resolved soon and to your favor.

_TGL- HEE HEE! I'm typinjg woithynb my gtoes! Okay, I'm done with that now! "What maggot…" LOL! I hope this answers your question. Moody didn't turn them in because (1.) he knows that Snape was working for the Order and (2.) He knows that something weird is going on as well._

(4-28, chapter 16) You left us at a cliff hanger, or edge of seat hanger since that's where I was at the end. I hope those pictures turn out and they got some of the dementors emerging. Whose voice called out? Looking forward to the next spine tingling chapter. :-)

_TGL- LOL! You'll just have to wait to see if the pics come out!_

Sofa Girl (4-21, chapter 13) I dun hate you! I think that Dumbledore had to die eventually anyways, like you said, he isn't a God. I actually enjoy endings which are kinda sad, rather than everyone survives and lived happily ever after. ;) Your imagery is really powerful though, the room, and the almost blatant description, as well as comparing the smell of the room Dumbledore was in with the smell of death which Hermione had smelled before. I love this story so far! Gonna continue reading now...

_TGL- Thanks!_

(4-21, chapter 15) I finished the story. The way you write really makes everything seem more horrific than before. I'm alot more scared of dementors now than when I read the original Harry Potter books. They seem even more evil than Voldemort himself. (shudder).   
On a more cheerful note, I hope you update soon, I rly want to know what happens next!!

_TGL- In my opinion, the Dementors ARE more evil than Voldie, namely because they survive off of devouring the essence of men. I hope you like this chapter._

(5-08, chapter 16) Erg. I think I'll go be sick like Hermione. This is a rly scary fic. Fudge is twisted, (We all love a common enemy), dementors are just scaring the hell out of me. Next I'll be getting nightmares (Not your fault though, I decided to continue reading after all)  
:P  
I rly do hope the next chapter rocks. Plz update soon!

_TGL- Thanks! It's nice to know that I'm conveying what I think in the right way. Let me know what you think of this chapter!_

Sonnybonns (3-21, chapter 13) Don't worry. I'm one reviewer who knows what you mean about killing off Dumbledore. I don't think you'll lose as many readers as you think and I like the way your story has been going even if he does die. Keep writing this story, it's awesome.

_TGL- Surprisingly enough, I didn't get flamed once for killing off Albus. I was sort of shocked myself! Thanks for the great review!_

Swati (5-15, chapter 7) good stuff, but ch. 7 - parvati twins? i do believe it's patil.

_TGL- You know what? You're the first person to notice that. I hadn't even realized that I did it. Thanks for pointing that out. I'll fix it when I get a chance. _

Sweetevangeline (3-21, chapter 13) Of course not. Unless it's wasted. Just go somewhere with it, use it as development and just not for shock value.  
The thing about fanfiction is that the author can do whatever they want. The events are based on a specific universe. Sometimes you just have to suspend your thoughts on storyline. And, for a good story (like yours), that's sometimes pretty easy.  
Besides, Dumbledore isn't getting any younger. It's going to happen someday. Possibly in the next two books. So. No big thing.

_TGL- YAY! Another supporter! You rock, Evangeline, I don't think I've told you that recently enough!_

(3-28, Chapter 14) Oh, back to the icky room we go. I think it's interesting that you've decided to go this way and I can't wait to see how it turns out.

_TGL- I didn't choose to go this way without a HUGE wrestling match with my conflicting muses. I hope this chapter is worth it!_

Tangerine Python (4-28, chapter 16) Absolutly fantastic Grey Lady, you have a great way with disturbing imagery. My visuals of 'the room' were pretty strong the first time around but this visit was gut wrenching (in every respect of the word).   
The Walmart (Im in Australia, we have Kmart) smash and grab and the preperations for fugitive-hood (well, even more than they already are)was nice and tight, frought with the tension and hedonism that must come from having nothing to loose. It and the raid to the room itself reminded me alot of the atmosphere created in the Tommorow series created by John Marsden, if you ever have a chance to read his work, I think you would really enjoy them, truly addictive stuff.   
On the same note I am really Ron is great in this fic. I think that we SS/HG'ers tend to vilify or dumb down Ron (or you know, just kill him) and here he's not only a reasonable adult but an important member of the group, showing a lot of his cannon traits to good effect.   
Okay enough gushing for now, I do have one minor glitchy thing, if Severus is holding onto the guard when Hermione tases him then Im pretty sure that he would get electrocuted too (my source reference - Batman Returns), a case of "whoops sorry about that".   
I think I have a parenthesis addiction, I wonder if they make a patch?

_TGL- I don't believe I've read anything by John Marsden, I'll definitely have to check up on him. I love addictive writing. I also have a real dislike for moron!Ron, so I wanted to write him as a well developed character. Also, my source on the taser info informed me that one the electricity would not jump from one person to another (only the target of the shock would be affected) but I acknowledge that he could possibly be wrong. Thanks for reading and for leaving such a great review! _

Tomato (06-05, chapter 16) whoa. i almost didn't read this coz you got relatively few reviews. BUT. i decided to give it a chance and i'm so glad i did. great job. very well thought and nicely woven.

_TGL- Well, on ff.net, I've only got 80-something reviews as of now but on L&Lsnape and aff.net, I've got somewhere around 300 (I think) I'm glad you decided to give my fic and shot and even happier that you like it!_

Wandlimb (3-21, chapter 13) Just wanted to let you know that this story is currently one of my favorites. I saw from your author's notes that you are feeling a bit insecure, but your characterizations are right on target, and I'm enjoying the slow build up of SS and HG's relationship. The night in the tree keeping away from werewolves was one of my favorites, as was the one where they admitted their feelings for one another. It's a very good read, even if Albus had to die. I always look forward to updates. Thanks for sharing.  
_TGL- I'm a favorite! HOORAY! Thanks for your support, I did get really insecure about not only my character choices but the situations I was leading them into. You rock. Thanks a bunch!_


	18. Fallout

**Mephistopheles **

By: TheGreyLady

Chapter 18- _Fallout_

Sleep was a disaster that night. After three hours of waking each other, Severus had grabbed her hand and unceremoniously hauled her to the potions lab. Even though they were both ready to fall over from exhaustion, they still managed to brew a semi-decent Dreamless Sleep potion. Severus, who normally did things like measuring, cutting carefully and wearing a shirt when brewing a potion, all but threw the ingredients haphazardly into the cauldron.

Even as his dark hair fell into his eyes and his hands shook, he added the ingredients with a precision that she would normally merit to a chef-- using temperamental ingredients in amounts that were obviously measured from experience. The man that had demanded exactness above anything was tossing ingredients into the cauldron with a surety that belied his speed.

The ever-precise Severus Snape had, before the very eyes of a former student, brewed an obviously half-assed potion. "There is a time for meticulousness," he commented, anticipating her response to his methods before lying back on the bed. "Luckily, the potion was created by an insomniac, so it's very forgiving." He raised the vial to his lips and downed the noxious fluid.

He fell asleep instantly, the vial tumbling from his limp hand onto the floor. She waited a moment to make sure he hadn't poisoned himself before settling against Severus and taking her own.

She awoke the next morning to the pleasantly familiar sensation of Severus' arms wrapped around her. Banishing thoughts of the morning and all her problems away, she contented herself with relaxing into the embrace and nuzzling her cheek against his chest. He was still asleep; she didn't risk waking him with any excessive movement.

After a solid eight hours of sleep, the night before persisted to haunt her. She'd prayed that a mere night's sleep would dull the severity of the situation. No such luck… not that she was surprised.

Severus grunted loudly as she felt his arms tighten around her for a second before relaxing back into a less possessive hold. She closed her eyes and felt her mind drift off again…

… and then she was staring into the Dementor's face.

Her eyes flew open and she fought to control her breathing while she started to cry. Severus' voice was whispering reassurances into her ear; his hands stroked her back in a soothing manner. After she'd calmed herself sufficiently, she felt one of his hands slip beneath her nightshirt and tickle his nails across her back.

"You're awake," he said as his other hand began playing with her hair.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" she sniffed. "God, we're never going to be able to sleep normally again, are we?"

She tried to lever her body off of his but was halted when Severus refused to let her go. "Stay," he commanded softly. She rested her head on his chest again and smiled as she felt him stroke her hair again.

They really didn't have the opportunity to spend a lot of time alone together and she wasn't terribly enthusiastic at the prospect of losing this moment to the harsh realities of the daylight or the trauma she was going to have to deal with.

He pulled her pliant body closer to him as he commented, "We should start developing the film."

"We should do a lot of things," she admitted. "That doesn't mean I'm getting out of this bed."

"How are you faring?"

"I'm fine," she lied. "You did well last night."

"We'll see how well we did when we develop the photographs."

"So we'll get some developer and know by sundown."

He chuckled; it was a coarse and raspy sound after the vocal exertions of last night. "We need to brew the potion for the photographs. We will not know by sundown."

"How long?"

"Tomorrow for the photographs… I'm not sure how to develop the video."

She couldn't fight the laughter that bubbled out of her as she replied, "You don't have to develop the video, we just need to view it and see if everything came out."

He grunted in acknowledgment and brought one of his hands up to cover hers. She entwined their fingers and relaxed against him again. "Why do you think the patronuses were behaving so strangely?" she asked.

"I have no idea. Maybe we should peruse the text again and see if it's mentioned. From a first glance, my guess is that they weren't designed to manage in that sort of scenario."

"Someone had to have mentioned it somewhere."

"Someone also should have mentioned how Dementors were created. The first group did not yield nearly as many as were present before the battle with the Dark Lord. Somebody took it upon himself to create more of them."

She groaned, "Aristides babbled about the evils the Dementors wrought; why on earth would anyone create more of them?"

He was quiet for a moment as he rolled her onto her back. Hovering over her, he said, "You honestly have no idea, do you?"

She cocked her head in question as he touched a kiss to her lips and heaved himself off of her and rose from the bed to begin searching the drawers. As he pulled on his shirt, she asked, "Do you?"

He paused and stared at her for a moment with a strange expression on his face before donning his shoes. He left the room without another word.

****

Harry was still asleep/unconscious. She would have been more concerned if she'd had any concept as to how surviving the killing curse affected individuals. With nothing to do, she found herself more bored and anxious than she'd believed possible.

She'd realized the folly of her question only moments after she'd asked it. Of course Severus knew what could drive a man to acts of inexplicable evil -- he'd been driven to that point in his youth. He'd been powerless and vulnerable… two words that she hated to ascribe to him. Harry had told her about what he'd seen from the Occlumens sessions.

Severus knew what could make a man conjure the foulest of creatures. She wondered for a moment if she'd have followed in his footsteps if she'd been as lonesome as he must have been.

With Harry asleep, Ron gone and Severus busy, she had nothing to do but reflect on the events of the night before. Cornelius Fudge was a traitor to the nation he was supposed to protect. He'd revived an army that was better off vanquished. _Why?_

There was no answer. She may never know. Maybe it was a political move, maybe Fudge was seeking to expand his power in the Wizarding world, maybe he was even more of an evil, stark-raving lunatic than anyone had imagined. It didn't make sense.

Then again, looking at Harry and the way he'd been raised, it was sometimes difficult to understand why he and Voldemort had wound up leading such different lives. Looking at Severus now, she found it hard to believe that he'd ever had the desire to join the Death Eaters. She'd never ask, though. She'd already sworn to herself that she would never ask him why.

Maybe she should leave the Wizarding world and start studying psychology.

She was physically and emotionally spent. Part of her wanted to curl up in a corner and sleep until the end of the world and an equally large part dreaded the nightmares the dream world was sure to provide. She simply couldn't win. She knew what had happened but part of her remained unwilling to accept it.

That chanting she'd heard when the Dementor was preparing to kiss her was haunting her. It had been the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. The fact that it had been coming from something so… ugly… did nothing to comfort her. The fear that had overwhelmed her had been lost the moment that angelic choir began to sing.

No one who had seen the face of a Dementor had ever lived to tell about it. Oddly enough, it wasn't its face that continued to haunt her-- it was the lingering, lilting voices that it had forced her to hear. She'd felt so carefree, so unconfused… she knew that she'd do nearly anything to feel that way again.

She'd lost that feeling. It was something that she would have to come to terms with. In that moment, she knew that she would never be the same… but then again, wasn't that what Dementors were known for?

After checking Harry for fever, she curled up in bed again. She hoped Ron was okay. There wasn't a way for the Weasleys to contact her. It was probably safer that way. She briefly wondered if she could sneak to 12 Grimmauld Place and check on him but discarded it just as quickly. Too much had happened to throw it away… and her presence wouldn't change Ron's condition.

She woke later, unaware that she had fallen asleep. It was late afternoon, she hated that she'd wasted so much of the day. On the bright side, she'd just eliminated several hours' worth of boredom and reflection and she hadn't had a nightmare.

_ Sometimes you have to take your victories where you can._

With no change in Harry's condition, she decided to see if Severus needed or wanted any sort of help. Rapping lightly on the laboratory door, she stood back as it opened without any physical assistance. The sight of an unmanned cauldron simmering told her that he didn't need her help but the man himself was nowhere in sight.

Hesitantly, she stepped into the lab. It was an excellent facility. If she weren't so utterly sick of this house, she'd like to have a work-area similar to this one.

"Did you need something?" Severus' voice called across the room. She whirled around to see him hunched over on a stool, reading the parchments she knew to be the translation of Aristides' diary.

"I was going to ask you the same," she replied. "Have you found anything new?"

"'Aberrations of man…'" he read off, "'the sins of humanity… twisted creations of our warped psyches…'" he put the parchment down and rubbed his hand across his eyes. "No, it's still the same."

"You'd think he'd have tried to find a way to destroy the Dementors instead of…"

"Whining about how badly he felt for helping to create them?" he finished. "He oversaw their removal to England. That was the solution he came to." He did not smile as the words passed his lips; it wasn't a joke.

She stood awkwardly by one of the workstations, wanting to be comforted but afraid to ask. Apparently he heard her unspoken plea and rose to embrace her.

As she buried her face in his chest, she heard the words tumble from her lips, "Why did you join… You-Know-Who?"

The seconds the words came from her mouth, she cursed herself for being every kind of fool. She didn't want to know. She knew that she didn't want to know but the question had been asked and hung between them like a wall-- and she couldn't take it back. For the life of her, she couldn't take it back.

She felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. Why had she asked… why had she asked?

She didn't know anything. She didn't know why Fudge was recreating the Dementors, she didn't know if Ron was all right and she didn't know if America was going to exonerate them.

Dammit, she deserved to know something… anything. But as she felt Severus' shoulders slump ever so slightly, she wished, more than anything, that she had chosen something else to question.

"I suppose you should know," he said after a long pause. He pulled away from her. "I know you wouldn't ask me this sort of question unless you'd carefully debated whether or not you wanted the answer…"

_Oh God, I haven't. I don't want to know. Don't tell me. Please, don't tell me._

"The Dark Lord offered me the one thing that I wanted more than anything."

"You wanted to belong," she finished for him quickly. "You wanted a group to belong to."

"You don't understand," he muttered as he turned away from her and toward the wall.

"Understand what? That you wanted to feel accepted?"

"Do I look like a victim?" he snapped, wheeling back at her. "Do I look like a joiner? Do I look like the sort of person who would betray their moral fabric for the sake of having _friendship_?" he asked incredulously. She tried to turn away but strong hands grasped her shoulders and spun her back to face him. "Do I?!" he aggressively questioned again.

"Then what?" she asked, cursing herself again for encouraging the conversation. The tears were already falling; she knew they wouldn't be stopping soon.

He sighed, "I was an antisocial, maladjusted child," he said as if listing it off from a progress report. "I was _raised_ in the Dark Arts; I didn't _know_ anything else. I did not _have_ morals, Hermione. I was an evil, hateful little _shit_ that wanted nothing more than to advance," he finished before continuing in his regular tone. "No one expected any more of me…" he turned to sit upon the stool again before continuing, "The Dark Lord offered me test subjects."

"Test subjects?" she felt her heart drop.

"Muggles and Muggle-borns, a group I despised in the first place. I tested potions and curses on them to see their reactions. It was like experimenting on rats." He took note of her cringe but kept speaking. "In the rare event that they survived the experiments, they were executed by other Death Eaters."

_Please shut up… please shut up… I don't want to know…_

She paused, knowing that she didn't want to know the rest of the story but simultaneously heard herself asking in a voice pitched slightly higher than her normal tone, "Why did you change?"

He shook his head. "I'm not proud of it, Hermione."

"Just tell me," she said. _I want to know but I don't want to know._

"I became ill," he said. "The medi-wizards still aren't sure exactly what happened but suffice to say, a fever of 106 is nothing to scoff at. I remember little of what happened. I suffered from… severe hallucinations." She sat silently, waiting for him to continue. "A side effect of your body essentially cooking your brain. The people I'd killed… I saw them all. Initially, they stared at me… just stared at me as though I were an animal…"

_Because you were an animal…_

"Then they started speaking, telling me about the lives they wouldn't live because of what I'd done… about the people I'd taken them from. I wanted to die. I wanted to die more than anything. I could not imagine… living… after all the things I'd done.

"Then they attacked… they ripped away my skin, pulled me to pieces, froze me, screamed more loudly than I thought possible… they turned me into the subject I'd so easily turned them into…"

_You deserved it. Oh God, you deserved it…_

"When I awoke in St. Mungo's, my entire body hurt. The medi-witch told me that I was lucky to have survived. She started asking me questions-- basic information, things that were common knowledge to me. I had run the fever so long that I'd risked brain damage.

"I did not learn until later that I'd asked for Albus and told him everything. I was… convinced…" he took a deep breath and continued quickly, as though he were telling an embarrassing story, "That something had interfered with my life's course. There are potions that can diminish a fever, Hermione, I taught several of them to you; I didn't respond to any of them.

"I believed that I needed to see what I'd seen. I thought… I _believed_ that I was chosen to deliver a message from the heavens. In that moment, I _knew_ with no doubts that I was a messenger sent from a god I did not even believe in.

"I believed that something had sent me to change the world," he scoffed.

"Of course, Albus knew that I was _utterly_ delirious," his tone clearly conveyed that he shared this sentiment. "He knew that I would never have revealed myself as a Death Eater if I were coherent. So, he stayed quiet as I attempted to continue my life… when I began my work again, I'd realized that everything I'd seen while I was ill was merely a byproduct of the fever and that I had not been contacted by any god…

"... But I couldn't continue the testing. The Muggles… they ceased to be nonentities. I believe that after whatever I had told him, he knew that I would be stymied by the things that he knew I'd seen. So he waited until I came to him and repeated everything I knew and begged for forgiveness again."

"You did the right thing," she said, even as she backed away.

"The right thing to do, Hermione, was to be killed by the master I'd pledged my life to, just as Regulus Black was. The right thing to do would have been to become a martyr for the very cause I'd fought against." He looked up at her and shook his head. "But I wasn't interested in being right, Hermione; I was interested in being alive.

"You know where the door is," he said, turning from her and picking up the parchment again.

Unable to even think of anything to say, she began the long march to the door. Tears kept leaking from her eyes onto her cheeks as she reached the exit and turned back to him. "I would have believed nearly anything else, Severus," she said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

His eyes slid shut while a pained expression took over his face. "You deserve the truth," he replied quietly. "You deserve to know what I am."

She turned back to the door and opened it. Stepping through it, she closed it with a finality she'd prayed she would never have to come to. Overwhelmed, she stumbled to her room and threw herself upon the bed and wept with a ferocity she hadn't thought possible.

****

She checked on Harry again and saw no change in his condition. When she returned to her bedroom, a vial of the Dreamless Sleep potion waited for her. The few things Severus owned had been removed. Was he rejecting her for having the audacity to question his past?

Or had he already realized what she didn't have the courage to say? That she may not be able to continue loving him now that she knew.

For a moment, she wished that she had never restored him. If she hadn't, she wouldn't be standing here as a depressed, emotionally scarred, broken-hearted felon. She walked to the kitchen, intent on finding something to eat that didn't turn her stomach. The door slid open and she passed through only to be shocked into stopping.

Nicholas Flamel looked up from the table. He was eating a sandwich.

"You're back," she said dumbly.

The old man nodded, "I had to do a bit of reflection," he sighed. "After I destroyed the stone, I assumed that I would die quickly. The Elixir of Life stops your body from aging, so now I've got to live out the rest of my life. I never thought I would live to bury Albus."

"I never really thought that he could die," she responded. "He seemed so powerful."

"He was powerful," he admitted before halving his sandwich for her. "Severus has told me of your plan. I've already taken the liberty of contacting a friend in the Bureau by the name of Deacon White. He's already arranged for your arrival. Eat," he commanded, gesturing to the food.

She ignored him and asked, "Is there anything we should know before we go?" He remained silent for a moment before gesturing to her sandwich again. She sighed as she took a bite, smiling a bit at the parental nagging.

"Amnesty is a complex thing to attain. You will have to convince a panel of judges and countless agents of your innocence and of Fudge's crimes. You already have high credibility from the war against Voldemort but that will not be enough. You will be in for a difficult time but the Bureau is very thorough and very fair. The only thing you need know is that you can remain here for as long as you like. Finish your food."

She rolled her eyes and quickly finished the sandwich. She hadn't realized how hungry she'd been. Flamel stood by the window, looking out pensively. As she rose to leave, Flamel's voice stopped her.

"He's on the terrace," he said dismissively, staring into the raining night. Quietly excusing herself, she walked to the door. "People change, Hermione," Flamel called. "Even if Severus doesn't want to admit it, something happened to him while he was sick… and it changed him. He is not the person that he was. He isn't the same person he was when he arrived here."

She nodded and left. She paused as she reached the door that would lead her to Severus. Even as she shook her head at what a fool she was for considering it, she walked through the doors and saw him leaning against the railing, content to be soaked by the tidal waves of raindrops.

He looked like a man who was used to standing in the rain.

He knew that she was there but remained silent and still. She finally spoke, "You've given me a lot to think about."

"I know," he said as he continued to stare into the vacant sea.

"Why don't you hate me?" she asked, moving away from the awning and stepping into the torrent of rain. "I'm a Muggle-born… so why don't you hate me?"

He answered simply, "Because I don't." He didn't look at her. Why couldn't he look at her?

Rain dripped into her eyes as she said, "That isn't good enough." _Look at me… please, just look at me…_she begged him to hear her unspoken plea. Tears welled up in her eyes again and she tried to blink them away. She'd already cried too much today.

He continued to stare away. "It's the only answer I can give you."

"Tell me anything…' she sobbed as she felt her rationality slip away. "Tell me anything that will make _us_ make sense." She was pleading for a lie; she wasn't stupid enough to not realize it… but something had to be left unbroken… and she'd come to the wrong man for it.

"I can't," he conceded, still staring into the night. "We _don't_ make any sort of sense."

"That isn't good enough," her voice cracked.

His head sunk a little. "That is what I am."

She turned to leave but as soon as she reached the door, she found herself turning back to him. "Give me a reason to stay," she begged. "Just give me a reason… and I'll stay."

He stood still and did not speak for a long time. With each second that passed, her heart broke a little more. The hot tears streaming down her face were a startling contrast with the cold rain they mingled with.

"I can't," he finally replied. He was shaking, his hands convulsing against the railing even as he clutched it.

She focused on the door once again. "I would have loved you forever," she shamelessly confessed, weeping. Her legs were shaking, she had to prop herself up against the wall.

"You're foolish to have given your love away so easily," he replied unapologetically, twisting for a moment to look at her as she turned to leave.

She saw the veiled tears in his eyes… and she knew for certain that each individual irrational unshed droplet would scar her forever.

****

Harry had woken the next morning. He'd been disoriented and wept as he murmured about seeing his mother. Holding him had been her only option. She couldn't relate… she felt so detached. Utterly exhausted, everything was blurring together in her mind.

The night before, she'd refused to take the Dreamless Sleep draught. She wanted to punish herself for her foolishness… and the potion reminded her of Severus.

The few times she'd dared to look in a mirror, she could only see the black circles marring her eyes. She'd broken the mirror in her bedroom; seven years of 'regular' bad luck would be a respite compared to the luck she'd been having lately.

She couldn't cry anymore. She just wanted to curl up and die.

Severus called her and Harry into the living room. She and Harry stared at the hardwood floors until Severus arrived. Flamel sat in as well, stating that he felt like he owed them any sort of assistance that he could offer since he had been gone for longer than anticipated.

"A few of the photographs came through," Severus said brusquely as he displayed the 'good' photos for her and Harry.

A shot of her with Severus collapsed on the floor were revealed, as well three of the damning photographs of the room itself. Even in these pictures, the pool itself was blurry and the quality was poor. There hadn't been enough light in the room.

"The video didn't come out. No sound, either," Harry muttered shortly. Apparently surviving the Killing Curse made you somewhat emotionally unstable; he'd be laughing one moment and utterly inconsolable the next but he'd been progressively balancing out through the day. Harry, thankfully, remained blissfully in the dark as to the altercation she'd had with Severus.

Not that there was anything he would have been able to do about it.

"Do you think these are good enough to be used as evidence?" Harry continued.

"They could be," the older man replied. "We won't know until we try."

"We should go with what we have," she said after a long silence. There was nothing left to lose. If they were handed over to the Dementors, then so be it; she didn't care anymore.

Anything would be better than this.

She couldn't live in this house with him. She just couldn't. Harry nodded in assenting, his concerned stare falling upon her before turning onto Severus.

"It sounds like you're prepared," Flamel said as reached into his pocket to reveal a small tin can. "Deacon sent this," he explained. "It's a portkey. It will take you directly to the American Bureau of Magic. He'll know when you leave and will meet you there."

"Nicholas," Harry said slowly as he took the portkey, "will you check on Ron? He's at the…"

"Order's Headquarters, I know," Flamel finished. As Hermione crossed to join Harry, Flamel pulled her aside. "There's something you need to remember, Hermione," he whispered. "You were almost kissed by a Dementor; a little chocolate is not going to make it all better."

He gestured for her to move to Harry as he then took Severus aside and shared a few hushed words with him. As she reached Harry, she mentally filed Flamel's words away, she'd think about it later. She watched as Severus nodded shortly and strode over to her.

Severus placed his hand on the portkey and the three vanished.

When they stood on solid ground again, they were greeted with the sight of a huge monolithic building. The huge metal and stone structure towered above them. People entered and exited as though it were a normal building. Was this an illusion? How were they supposed to find Mr. White?

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Snape," a voice called from behind. She spun around to see a striking blonde man who couldn't have been over the age of thirty trotting over to them. "I am Deacon White. Do you have everything that you need?"

"Yes," Harry replied quickly before adding, "_You're_… Flamel's friend?" Even though she wanted to slap Harry for asking, she, too, had assumed that Deacon White would be a much older man.

The blonde man smiled and chuckled, "Nicholas has been a friend of my wife's family for generations, starting with her great-great-great-etc.-etc. grandfather before he emigrated from Ireland," he finished quickly. "Are you ready?"

She turned and gave Harry a fierce hug. She tried to let go but her arms wouldn't obey her mind. Tears welled up in her eyes. This was it. This was the moment she'd both dreaded and hoped for ever since she'd formulated this plan.

"It's going to be fine, Hermione," Harry said, holding her just as tight. "We're the good guys, remember?"

She wrenched her arms from around her friend. Severus turned to the Boy-Who-Lived and extended his hand. Hermione had to consciously keep her jaw from dropping. The mountain had come to Muhammad and Severus Snape had made a friendly gesture to the famous Harry Potter.

Harry took the offered hand and pulled Severus into a manly hug, keeping their hands clasped and holding Severus with his free arm. Hermione didn't think she had ever seen Severus look so startled and White-- even though he probably didn't understand the significance of the moment-- was biting back laughter at the stupefied and disgusted expression on Severus' face.

After standing quietly for a second and regaining his bearings, he growled, "I am not your girlfriend, Potter!" Harry immediately backed away and nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders before erupting into laughter.

Biting his lip, White asked again, "Are you ready?"

She felt Severus' eyes fall upon her. It took every ounce of her willpower to not meet his gaze as he said, "Yes, we're ready."

White led them straight into the building. Hermione, more terrified than she wished to show, willed herself to take each step. Severus looked as calm and graceful as he usually did but through her perceptive vision, she could see it.

His hands were shaking.

**__**

****

**__**

**__**

_Author's Notes- Only one thing before you all start taking hits out on me again… the story ain't over yet… keep that in mind. Chapter 19 will be out pretty/very soon._


	19. Bound Down

**Mephistopheles**  
  
By: TheGreyLady  
  
Chapter 19- _Bound Down_

There were 764 tiles in the ceiling.  
  
She knew. She'd counted them three times already.  
  
She lay in bed, staring up. There was nothing else to do. She wasn't allowed to read any periodicals or non-fiction. She'd already read the books they'd given her. Her jailers had been very kind, seeking and finding the items she wanted-- and was allowed-- to read.  
  
She never thought, in all her years, that she would ever grow sick of books.  
  
Once every two days she was given 'playtime,' as they had called it, for one hour. Basically, she was led to an enclosed macadam lot and left with an armed guard. She lived for that hour in the sunshine. There was nothing of note to do there but it gave her an opportunity to stare up into the skies that she had taken for granted and stare at the grass on the other side of the barbed-wire fence.  
  
Every other hour of every other day was spent in this cell. Her books were boring her. She had not spoken to anyone, save the women who consistently checked on her, for over four weeks. The days were beginning to blend together in a concoction of angst and monotony.  
  
She was grateful that she wasn't kept with the other women in her prison. Several of them could be heard howling at night but she imagined that the screams prompted from her own nightmares robbed her of the right to be indignant about the interruption.  
  
She knew this much. She was in a women's prison, which meant Severus and Harry probably weren't occupying this same space. As they had been led away for transport to one holding space, she had been taken for transport to another.  
  
St. Magus Correctional Facility was the name of the place she'd been taken. She had no idea what city or state that may have been in, only that her hands had been bound together and she was placed in the back of a van for a very long time. When she arrived, they'd taken her clothing and given her an ugly green jumpsuit that could have been woven from steel wool.  
  
She felt like a criminal. While she knew this to be the truth, it did nothing to console her.  
  
Her meal tray was simply replaced more often than it was taken away empty. Annette, one of the four guards in charge of her, seemed gravely concerned at her disinterest in sustenance. The food was vile-- Hermione was sure that she'd lost weight. She constantly felt listless and she wasn't completely sure if it was due to environmental or nutritional causes.  
  
"You all right in there, shug?" Annette's voice rang through the room.  
  
Hermione nodded absently. She assumed that 'shug,' was short for sugar. She didn't like that Annette had decided on a pet name for her. Regardless of how kind she'd been, the woman was her warden, not her friend.  
  
Aside from that, she sort of liked Annette who reminded her of a dark skinned, American Mrs. Weasley. She was a colorful, vibrant individual but then again, she was only here six hours a day. Annette once said that watching Hermione was a walk in the park compared to looking after the other girls here.  
  
"You done with these books?" the older woman questioned again, motioning to the books she'd neatly stacked by the cell door.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You want any new ones?"  
  
Hermione nodded. Annette waited for a moment before asking, "You gotta preference?"  
  
"Anything will be fine," she replied. Annette shook her head silently and left. Hermione wished that she could be more interested in her sole source of companionship-- the woman was obviously concerned for her welfare but Hermione was unconcerned with her well being.  
  
She still wanted to curl up in a corner and die, miserable and alone... anything would be preferable to this.  
  
Deacon White had visited her once shortly after she arrived, telling her that she would be held here until the paperwork and research for her case went through. He was hurrying it, he'd told her, so it shouldn't take too long.  
  
And here she sat, over a month later. She wasn't sure that she was terribly fond of America. Perhaps she had vested too much faith in this system... maybe they should have gone elsewhere.  
  
She wondered how Ron was... if he'd recovered yet. Every time she asked, she was told that she would know as soon as they did. She wondered if Harry and Severus ever saw each other. The thought of Severus brought on an onslaught of emotions she'd been so desperately trying to suppress.  
  
Annette soon returned wielding a stack of books. She wasn't alone this time; two guards-- armed with wands and batons-- accompanied her. Hermione was confused; armed guards only came when she was taken from her cell and she'd gone outside yesterday. "You got a visitor," Annette chirped as she slid the books through the bars of her prison chamber.  
  
Dutifully, Hermione stood and backed away from the door as it opened. Annette came inside, fastened her hands together and led her to a small waiting private room where her hands were released from the bonds. She sat at a small table obediently until the door opened.  
  
"Hello, Hermione," Deacon White called as he sauntered into the room. The guards left, closing and locking the door behind them.  
  
"Hi," she replied.  
  
"Well, we've managed to rush some of the paperwork," White said, ignoring Hermione's pointed laugh and taking a seat, "and, if everything goes well, we can start the interviews by the end of the week."  
  
"Good," she said as she felt the slightest bit of tension melt from her shoulders. Finally, some progress was being made.  
  
"Also, your friend, Ronald Weasley," he paused for a moment to sigh heavily. Rising from his chair, he walked over and crouched in front of her, clasping her hands before he continued, "He's been moved to an American hospital for treatment. Nicholas brought him."  
  
She jerked her head up, searching White's eyes for deception, "Is he all right?"  
  
"He went into a coma," he said quietly. She felt her chin begin to tremble as she heard him continue, "But he's in an excellent facility with some of the best mediwizards on the planet and things are looking good for him... His condition is already improving."  
  
She hadn't even seen him before she left for America. His parents must have been worried sick. The image of Ron, soaked in his own blood and eyes rolling, played itself over and over again before her watering eyes.  
  
"I hate it here," she sobbed, letting the tears fall of their own volition, relinquishing control for a precious moment. "I hate it here. I want to go home." As the final word passed her lips, she cried even harder. She no longer had a home to go to.  
  
White released her hands and pulled her into a tight hug as he said, "This is the worst part. You've got a very solid case and a lot of people who are rooting for you. Okay? Everything's going to be fine. Ronald is going to be just fine. _You_ are going to be fine."  
  
_Pull yourself together_, she scolded herself. Pushing the tears back, she straightened in her chair, drawing away from White. She plastered on the fakest smile she could manage and asked, "Why do you believe us?" She cursed her voice for the slight tremor it had betrayed.  
  
"If Nicholas thinks you're innocent, then you're innocent. Here," he said, opening his briefcase and handing her a Styrofoam box from inside. "Prison food sucks."  
  
She laughed mirthlessly as she sniffled, "Prison 'sucks...'"  
  
Opening the box, she was assaulted by the aroma of grilled salmon, mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. Wanting nothing more than to bury her face in the luscious, delectable, mouth-watering meal, she picked up her plastic fork and began to eat with the most poise she felt she could muster, which wasn't a lot. Luckily, White didn't seem to think anything of it.  
  
"My wife found out I was coming to see you all today and demanded that I bring this to you." He looked at her very seriously, "And you don't _ever_ disobey Kate."  
  
The salmon was practically melting in her mouth. She swallowed, feeling like she had died and gone to heaven. "You've seen Harry and Severus?" she questioned before eagerly piercing another piece, the food she'd been eating usually needed roughly a pound of salt to make it even remotely palatable.  
  
"Yes," he replied simply.  
  
"How are they?"  
  
"Harry and you are on the same page," White conceded; she ignored the grammar. "Severus... well, he's... uhh... _adjusted_ remarkably well to prison life. Is he normally so... morbid?"  
  
She grinned, "Yes, he is... did either of them...?"  
  
"I'm not at liberty to go into specifics, Hermione," he replied, anticipating her question. "You're all separate. You aren't allowed any sort of contact with each other, even through me," White looked at her, his guileless gaze emanating his honesty. "We need to play this by the book. If I start breaking rules for you and somebody finds out, you could be denied amnesty."  
  
"Why have they separated us?" she asked.  
  
"They want to make sure that your stories are authentic. They're going to ask you very specific questions to make sure you don't have a rehearsed story."  
  
Her stomach dropped, she hadn't even considered the questioning. She asked, "Questions like what?"  
  
"'Who stood where?' 'What shoes were you wearing?' 'What did you eat?' Things like that," he said nonchalantly. "Nothing that you need to be concerned about."  
  
She bit her lip for a moment, she couldn't even remember _if_ she'd eaten the day they'd returned to the Department of Mysteries. "What if I can't remember all those things?" she asked.  
  
"They'll take into account that you're human. So don't worry," he replied smoothly, patting her hand gently. "Just be honest, Miss Granger. That's all they want from you."

* * *

She'd given an oral testimony three days earlier to two men. In short, they'd asked her to give a detailed synopsis of the events that led up to her arrival in America. An hour later, a lengthy document-- the transcript of her deposition-- was delivered to her cell for her signature. She'd reviewed it carefully before signing it... she didn't want to fall into a trap.  
  
The next day, she'd been removed from St. Magus and taken to another facility. Still isolated from the rest of the human population, Hermione soon became embittered at the loss of 'playtime' and books. Her new cell had shrunken in dimensions. Instead of bars and tiles, cold concrete walls stood on all sides. A massive metal door only appeared whenever someone needed to give her food. Her only opening into the outside world was a small, closed window hanging fifteen feet above the floor. She was encased in a prison of solid granite.  
  
There were no ceiling tiles for her to count to pass the time.  
  
Someone had told her that she wouldn't be here very long but as she craned her neck to the sky to watch the sun set through the tiny window, she held little faith that she would ever escape from here.  
  
She awoke the next morning to the sound of the metal door appearing and opening. A short bald man escorted by armed guards took her from the cell and led her through mazes of hallways. Whereas the Ministry of Magic had an eerie, ancient quality to it, everything here felt sterile and contemporary: bright lights illuminating every corner and clean white paint reflecting that light from the walls. The floors were covered in a shiny deep blue tile that glimmered as though it were brand new.  
  
They soon locked her into another small room. However, this room was different. There was a table here as well as two chairs... and the walls were yellow-- a very happy shade of yellow... the sort of yellow that would normally make her cheerful if she didn't harbor the sinking suspicion that she was about to be interrogated.  
  
The chairs were startlingly comfortable as well. Perhaps her time in solitary confinement had played with her head but she instantly became deeply guarded. These people wouldn't put forth the effort to make her feel this at ease if they weren't planning on doing something awful to her.  
  
The door opened again and a brusque, professional voice rang into her sensitive ears. "My name is Austin Joyce, I will be your caseworker," the bookish man told her as he set a case onto the table and opened it. "Coffee?"  
  
Baffled, she nodded, obediently taking the mug that appeared before her. The beverage tasted like dirt. She didn't want to have nature calling while they were interrogating her but she didn't want to be rude or seem uncomfortable. There was no telling how long this was going to take.  
  
"First," Joyce continued without pause, "You need to know that this session will be recorded. I must also ask if you would be willing to take Veritaserum." Hermione nodded quickly and the man released an exasperated breath, "I need you to say it, Miss Granger."  
  
Hermione cursed at herself, she was already making a mess of it-- not that he had _told_ her that she needed to speak it. "Yes, sir... I am willing to take Veritaserum."  
  
He produced from his robes a small device that looked suspiciously like a tape recorder and placed it on the table in front of her before waving his wand. He turned back to her and pulled from his briefcase a bottle filled with clear liquid.  
  
Three droplets into her coffee and a long drink later, Joyce began to speak again, rising from his seat and circling around her occasionally. A haze similar to that which the Draught of Peace had given her fell over her suddenly dulled senses.  
  
"This is Agent Austin Joyce, ID 701894, interrogating one Hermione Jane Granger, a British witch seeking American sanctuary. Photographic documentation taken by her is already submitted along with an untitled book and her translation of said book. She has willingly submitted to Veritaserum. Miss Granger, are you aware that this session is being recorded?"  
  
"Yes, I am," she replied without thinking and nodded as soon as her brain caught up with her mouth.  
  
"And you did agree to the Veritaserum?"  
  
"Yes, I did." Again, the words slipped from her of their own volition. No one had ever dosed her with the truth serum before; it dimly amazed her how the truth escaped her before she had a chance to think through it. She really hoped they wouldn't ask her anything intensely personal; she'd be unable to hold her tongue.  
  
"Then let's begin," Joyce replied smoothly, taking a seat across from her. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Very relaxed but also a little frightened."  
  
Joyce's voice took on a very placating tone and she had a horrifying image of Delores Umbridge creep into her mind. "Why are you frightened?"  
  
"Because if you don't believe me then I'll be handed over to Fudge and I'm not entirely convinced that you aren't about to do something horrible to me." She grimaced as she realized what she'd said.  
  
"All right," Joyce continued as though he'd expected that answer. "You're telling us, Miss Granger, that these photos," the photographs appeared out of thin air and hovered in front of her face, "were taken in the Department of Mysteries."  
  
"Yes," she said as she averted her eyes from the photographs. She didn't want to look at them. She'd been there, that was more than enough.  
  
"In England," Joyce continued without pause. "Your homeland."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And you're here to seek amnesty for you and your friends..." Joyce circled behind her and brought his face well into her personal space, "and one just _happens_ to be a convicted Death Eater," he said directly into her ear as he peered at the photos from over her shoulder.  
  
"Yes, but he's been pardoned."  
  
Joyce pulled the photographs from midair and began to flip through them, avoiding eye contact with her, "And you believe that even though you've _never_ seen the official pardon."  
  
Something in her mind clicked a bit at the way he'd said it, but she was too overwhelmed by the words she was saying to pay it much heed. "I watched him help while I stayed at the Order's headquarters during breaks from school."  
  
"Of course you did." Joyce said flippantly as he thumbed through the pictures again. "It never occurred to you that he could have been spying on the Order of the Phoenix for Lord Voldemort?"  
  
"Of course it occurred to me. But I think Professor Dumbledore would have known if something like that was going on."  
  
Joyce gave a wet laugh, he sounded like a man who smoked too many cigarettes. "Sure he would." He held up the picture of her and Severus collapsed on the floor and said, "What's happening in this picture?"  
  
His inquiries continued relentlessly. Joyce nitpicked the tiniest details of the photos, asking her to 'guesstimate' the dimensions of the room. He probed her mind for every adjective imaginable about the way she felt, what she remembered of the collapse and of her trip to the pool. The words came forth before she had the chance to process them and by the end, she was choking the words out. For the first time during the meeting, Joyce looked sincerely sympathetic even going as far as handing her a tissue and questioning her well-being.  
  
He put the photos down and began to look through the papers in a manila folder before asking, "Do you want to take a break?"  
  
"Yes," she sniffled. "But let's just get this finished."  
  
He scrutinized her for a moment before handing her another tissue. "All right... what's the nature of your relationship with Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley?"  
  
_Finally, an easy question_, she thought as her mouth began to run off again. "We became friends shortly after we began attending Hogwarts. Harry and I have always been close friends. Ron and I had a little falling out after we tried to date during sixth year but we reconciled during our final year."  
  
Joyce nodded, making a short mark on the paper he held. "Tell me about your relationship with Severus Snape."  
  
"He was my professor at Hogwarts. Then I graduated and he became my servant. After Harry and I released him from the spell, he became a friend of sorts... it escalated from there into a more romantic relationship." _Romantic?_ her brain cut in. _Where did that word come from?  
_  
Ignoring her unspoken monologue, Joyce asked, "Were you romantically involved with him prior to graduating from Hogwarts?"  
  
"No, we scarcely tolerated each other. Besides, it would have been unethical and immoral to have even considered it." She was insulted by the question but didn't feel it was her place to inform him of such. It was, after all, a legitimate question.  
  
"What changed that?"  
  
"I'm not sure. We weren't an instructor and his pupil anymore. Being in close quarters for such a long time, I suppose we had no choice but to learn to get on with one another the best we could."  
  
Joyce nodded shortly, breathing a quiet, "Mmm hmm..." in response before beginning to pace again. "Why America?" he queried. He was tapping his foot lightly on the floor.  
  
"Your policies best suit people in predicaments like mine," she answered, staring intently at his jangling foot.  
  
"And what predicament is that?" He seemed to notice her scrutiny and his foot stilled.  
  
"Cornelius Fudge knows I was down there. He knows that I know and he'll do anything to cover it up."  
  
"Including jailing you," Joyce swooped down, bringing his nose meager inches from hers.  
  
She replied, "Yes."  
  
"For breaking into the Department of Mysteries and tampering with the substances inside," Joyce persisted, sounding victorious in his deduction.  
  
Her heart felt like it was beating in her throat. She needed to breathe. "Yes."  
  
Her anxiety did not cause Joyce to falter in his assault, "To restore a _convicted_ Death Eater."  
  
"Yes." Her chin was shaking as she spoke the words._ I won't cry... I won't cry... he's just trying to intimidate me...  
_  
"Because you don't believe the court of the Ministry was _correct_ in assessing his guilt."  
  
"I _don't_ believe they were correct!" she spat, focusing her fear into a much more manageable anger. "He risked his life spying on You-Know-Who for the Order of the Phoenix. He was subjected to a dark ritual under false pretenses. Ask any member of the Order!"  
  
"Why can't we find any evidence that anybody testified on his behalf, then?" Joyce asked, his voice as calm and collected as it had ever been.  
  
"The proceedings were closed. To my knowledge, the testimonies given were never documented in public record... or taken into consideration when it came to sentencing, it seems."  
  
Joyce rummaged through the folder again, scanning through documents as he stated, "You claim that the pictures were not doctored or altered in any way."  
  
"None whatsoever."  
  
"And you claim the root of the spell that created the Dementors is documented in the untitled book Albus Dumbledore gave you," he said as he placed the folder on the table again and took his seat. "There is no doubt in your mind that the things you claim to have encountered are Dementors."  
  
"Yes, it is documented in the book and I have no doubts that they were Dementors."  
  
"Are you aware, according to the International Wizarding Conference of 1132, that a Dementor is considered a 'Dark Being' and thus deemed a hazard to society?"  
  
"No, I did not know that," her brow furrowed as she processed the information... why hadn't she known that? She'd read many of the books in the Hogwarts library... why had she never seen that?  
  
"Are you aware," Joyce resumed, "that, according to the same Conference, utilization of existing beings is not only perfectly legal but considered to be a right of the courts?"  
  
"I was not aware of that. I do know that Minister Fudge had been using that right for years alongside several other Ministers in the past."  
  
"The first time you broke into the Department of Mysteries, where did you get Ginny Weasley's hair for the Polyjuice Potion?" he asked, sitting back twirling his pen and staring at her indifferently.  
  
The questions continued for well over an hour, ranging from what motivated her to free Severus to what color shirt Harry had given her to wear after she'd had the embolism. Joyce's chosen order of questions seemed to follow no pattern-- his jumps from one subject to another seemed to be determined completely at random.  
  
She nearly fell to her knees in thanks when a knock sounded at the door. Before Joyce had an opportunity to react, a young dark-haired man with a nose that was too small for his long face entered the room, promptly Joyce to look infinitely irritated.  
  
"Austin, I need to talk to you," the man said while simultaneously knocking on the door's interior.  
  
"I'm a little busy here, Reed," Joyce droned back, clearly irritated with the interruption.  
  
"It's about her," Reed-- she wasn't sure if it was his first or last name-- replied. "C'mon, Edgar and Julie are already waitin'."  
  
"What?" Joyce asked no one in particular. "Do I just leave her here?"  
  
"Yeah. Guards are outside." Reed looked at her and said, "You gonna try and leave, Miss Granger?"  
  
"No," she replied before she had the chance to consider the question.  
  
"See? She ain't goin' nowhere." Reed replied, clapping Joyce on the shoulder and sweeping the folder from the older man's grasp. "C'mon, let's go."  
  
Joyce walked from the room angrily following the younger man. Hermione was left alone. She had no intentions of attempting escape. After all, where could she go? Impatiently and anxiously awaiting Joyce's return, she drummed her fingernails against the table until Joyce returned nearly a half-hour later.  
  
He strolled into the room and handed her another vial, "The antidote for the Veritaserum. We're going to call it an early day but first, do you have anything you'd like to ask me?"  
  
She eagerly drank the new potion before asking, "Is there any method to your questioning?"  
  
"Yes," he replied simply, effectively ending her questionnaire.  
  
He fumbled through his pockets as Reed reentered the room wielding a new folder. Joyce gave Reed something nearly resembling a smile before turning back to Hermione. "Well, you're in luck," he said. "The seal on Snape's pardon has been confirmed. The notary was tracked down. It's legit."  
  
"What?" she asked, prompting both men to gaze at her incredulously. "Where did you find a copy of Severus' pardon?"  
  
Joyce and Reed snapped their eyes up to hers before staring at each other for a while. "Miss Granger," Joyce said, bringing his eyes to hers, "Snape _gave_ it to us."

* * *

_****_

_****_

_**This facility is fictional... any resemblance to an existing facility is purely coincidental.  
  
Author's notes- The next chapter will be posted (along with an explanation for the insanely long wait between updates) on Tuesday... or maybe Sunday... I suppose it depends... Love Ya!**_


	20. Beginning the End

**Mephistopheles **

By- TheGreyLady

Chapter 20- _Beginning the End_

* * *

Her jaw dropped and she gawked disbelievingly at the two men. Each man gave her small nods as though they couldn't believe that she hadn't known. "He had a copy of his pardon?" she finally and shakily asked. "How did he get it?"

Joyce opened the new folder and said, "According to him, he received it from..." Joyce flipped through some papers from Reed's folder, "... Nicholas Flamel shortly after he arrived at Rábida. Flamel's backed up the story, says Dumbledore asked him to give it to Snape... the man knew he was losing it, didn't want to forget."

"Goddamn shame," Reed conceded, shaking his head as he stared at the floor. "He was a good man."

Ignoring Reed, she was stunned as she literally felt her fantasy world crumble around her. Every ounce of logic that she possessed couldn't explain this. He'd had his pardon... he'd had it before Dumbledore had even died. He could have gone back... he could have gone anywhere.

He'd been free.

As Reed moved to leave, Hermione managed to regain her voice, "Excuse me?" She asked the man and he turned back obligingly. She continued, "Did you ask... why he stayed if he had his pardon?"

Reed stared at her blankly for a moment before replying matter-of-factly in his thick but crisp voice, "Yes... Yes, we did." Before she had the chance to ask anything else the awkward man hurried from the room.

She cocked her head in confusion. "Well, why would he..." she said as she turned back to Agent Joyce.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger," Joyce speedily replied, effectively ending her question. "But you aren't allowed to hear any portion of Snape's or your cohorts' testimonies."

She sighed disgustedly as she argued, "But you _just_ told me where the pardon came..."

Joyce interrupted her again, "That's evidence, ma'am. Since it's going to be used in your hearing, you have the right to know where it came from... but that's all."

"But why would he stay if he had proof that he was innocent?" she asked, knowing the indifferent man before her wouldn't answer. "He could have left..."

"I'm not at liberty to say," he replied almost compassionately. "Look, it seems you've had a nasty shock... and I need to go over a few things. We're calling this a day," he said as he paged the guards to escort her back to her cell. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Severus had his pardon... not only did he possess his own pardon but he'd had it since Nicholas Flamel had personally given it to him... while he and Flamel were still trying to recreate the Philosopher's Stone.

The man was crazy.

Severus Snape was completely, entirely, absolutely, utterly insane.

It was the only reason. It was the only justification she could come up with for why Severus would stay if he had a copy of his pardon... for risking his life needlessly. Severus Snape did not do anything that he did not _want_ to do on some level; subjecting himself to that room of his own volition surely qualified as lunacy.

He could have gone to America the moment Flamel had given it to him, but she knew, instinctively, that he couldn't leave someone he loved as much as Albus without doing everything in his power...

She froze. She couldn't even breathe as she frantically replayed his words in her mind.

'You're foolish to have given your love away so easily,' he'd said.

_If you cannot love all of me, then you're a fool to have loved me._

'We _don't_ make any sort of sense,' he'd said.

_But for some reason, we're together._

Severus loved her.

_Oh God,_ she thought as she sunk back onto her bed. He'd been telling her exactly what she'd wanted to hear with his own words. In her quest for absolution, she had overlooked the most obvious fact; He was Severus Snape... he couldn't _just_ tell her anything.

She'd begged for a lie... and he'd refused to give her one.

He was cleared of his crimes but knew that the Ministry would continue to hunt her for tampering in the room-- he probably also knew that she couldn't leave without knowing exactly what had been in that pool. He'd stayed to help her even after what had transpired the night Albus died.

He loved her... that's why he'd stayed. His continued presence said it more loudly than he ever could have... and he knew that, inevitably, she'd distrust anything else.

_He's a murderer,_ the logical side of her mind screamed. _He would have killed you!_ It was undeniable, that much was true. If she could travel back in time and met him during his youth, he probably would have wished her harm... and done something to ensure that his wish came true.

But the Death Eater who had come to live in her home should have hated her... and he didn't. The man who had arrived at Flamel's mansion should have left... but he'd stayed. At some point, he had changed and she hadn't even noticed.

The man he had confessed to being would have never been capable of loving a Muggleborn. He would have been disgusted at the prospect of sharing quarters with her. Hermione had never really believed that a leopard could change his spots. It was common knowledge that people changed very little after adolescence.

But perhaps some people can change...

Maybe Severus was one of them.

She rolled over onto her back and stared blindly at the ceiling again. A piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Now, she was left with the irrevocable responsibility of deciding what she was going to do with this newfound knowledge.

_Am I capable of loving him after all he's done? Can I forgive him?_ Her heart gave her a simple yet powerful affirmation but she needed to get her mind to agree. She couldn't risk making another mistake-- not after everything she'd been through.

As a professor, she rationalized, Severus had never let the students fall into harm's way. He was a bastard, that much was a given, but he'd never seriously hurt anyone -- contrary to many students' beliefs. As a friend, if he could be called such, he did everything in his limited ability to help her. The night when he'd held her while she cried on the bathroom floor stood out in her memory. As a lover -- she supposed that was the only word she could use -- he'd given up an almost guaranteed freedom so that he could help her fight Cornelius Fudge.

She needed to ask him why he'd stayed. With Severus, she'd learned, assuming would be the death of her. He could have had a very logical reason for staying... and it may have had little or nothing to do with her.

Reflecting back to the time they'd spent together since this whole ordeal began, she realized that Severus had never deliberately gone out of his way to attack her... or Ron... or Harry. That really said something. In many ways, she could only see frayed and tattered remnants of the man he had been when she looked at the man he'd become.

And she still loved him...

He was still a bastard, that much was a given. He possessed all the social graces and manners of a six-year-old child, much to the insult of six-year-old children everywhere. She doubted he'd ever been in a serious relationship before. He wasn't what anyone would consider conventionally attractive... but she'd never cared much for the handsome boys with the onetime exception of Lockhart. Severus had a very odd beauty about him when he wasn't being overly snarky.

Somehow, in spite of it all, it endeared him to her. He was intense, everything about him was passionate and confident -- but at the same time, he was so unsure. He flaunted his intelligence at every opportunity but became so defensive if he was thought wrong. He could sleep next to her and kiss her but, even when she begged him, he couldn't ask her to stay... because he knew that when he told her about his past, she would walk away...

... and she had done just that.

Folding her hands behind her head, she let her eyes slide shut. She couldn't make herself believe that staying away was the right thing to do. With a little more work, she could reconcile his past with his present. As she felt her mind begin to drift off, she told herself that if -- for any number of reasons -- a relationship with Severus failed, she could at least know that she'd tried.

She just wanted to see him again.

* * *

Five more days passed. Joyce had questioned her twice but it had mostly been repetition. More random questions were asked and answered, more tears were shed and more sympathetic nods were sent her way. With each passing minute, she found herself disliking Austin Joyce more and more -- if that was possible.

If she were denied protection, she was going to pummel the man into a pulp. If they were granted protection... she'd just slap him around for a while.

Today, she sat in her cell. Mildly surprised that Joyce hadn't arrived to interrogate her yet, she settled back and did the one thing she could. She stared at the walls and wished that she were somewhere else.

The metal door appeared again. When it opened, two guards motioned for her to follow them. Instead of heading to the yellow room, she was led into a large bathroom and sealed inside with a kind looking woman.

Not about to complain at the prospect of having a decent bath, she became even more grateful when the stranger humanely averted her eyes as Hermione stripped. She bathed quickly and donned the clean jumpsuit-- as happy as she was at the prospect of taking a leisurely bath, it just didn't feel right when another person was there.

Signaling to the stranger that she was finished, the two guards reentered the bathroom and led her down another set of corridors. Hermione was confused; they weren't leading her to the yellow room nor were they taking her back to her cell.

They finally reached a new door and her escorts motioned her through. After hesitantly pushing the door open and cautiously peeping within, a relief flooded her that she hadn't felt since she'd released Severus so long ago.

Ron and White sat inside, waiting for her. Even dressed in an ugly orange jumpsuit, Ronald remained the most beautiful and welcome sight she'd beheld in a while.

Without saying a word, she raced inside and launched herself at Ron. He swept her into a fierce hug and she clutched him as though she were afraid he'd disappear from her grasp.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, still refusing to let him go.

Ron laughed and replied, "I've been here since I recovered," while he crushed her more tightly against his frame.

She pulled away and looked closely at him. His hair was shorter than she'd remembered it and he too had lost weight. "I'm just so happy that you're okay," she finally said. Ron flashed her a quick grin as White cleared his throat.

"This is it, you two. The panel is meeting with the agents and going over your cases," White said.

"Now?" Ron exclaimed. "But they've only talked to me once!"

"Relax, Ronald," White replied calmly. "This is a good thing. The less they talk to you, the better. It means your case is clear-cut."

For some reason, White's reassurance made little difference to her. She was frightened and Ron was obviously scared as well. "Are Harry and Severus coming?" she asked the older man.

As soon as the words left her mouth, the door opened again. Harry stepped inside, followed by Severus. Orange was not a flattering color on either of them-- not that she cared in the slightest. She hugged Harry tightly before he broke away to greet Ron.

Severus regarded her with interest; he didn't seem to know what to do. Going against every ounce of logic she possessed, she walked over to him. For a long moment, the two watched each other intently, momentarily oblivious to their surroundings. She didn't know what to do, what action she should take. Abandoning her judgment, she opted to yield to her impulse and wrapped her arms around him.

"I understand," she said softly as she felt his arms hesitantly embrace her. As he opened his mouth to speak, she shushed him. "Later..." she said. "We'll talk later."

It was very possible that there wouldn't be a later. But she needed time and privacy to talk to Severus and the current locale was severely lacking in both.

He gave her a short nod before taking a seat alone. She patiently moved to sit next to him and took his hand, silently offering her support. Even though Severus wasn't the type of man to welcome open affection... it could possibly be the last time they ever saw each other. It became evident that he shared the sentiment as his fingers entwined with hers.

Half-listening to Harry and Ron talk about how horrid imprisonment had been for them, she struggled to keep her eyes from rolling. She was unable to force her interest in the subject, she'd already been through it... it was redundant and she didn't want to think about the looming possibility of being jailed again...

... or being handed over to the Ministry.

Despite her fear, she attempted to gauge White's expression. Either he was as skilled as Severus at masking emotions or he had no clue as to their fate as well. Looking to Severus, she noticed that he looked gaunt, pale and tired... but that wasn't really a surprise, she'd seen the same every time he came in to teach potions. It was little wonder White had questioned the ex-professor's remarkable adjustment to incarceration.

There was actually little change in Severus' appearance. He'd lost weight, his lithe body seemingly lost in the expanse of his clothes and the lines on his face appeared more pronounced. Harry looked much worse for wear; his weight loss bordered on drastic and when coupled with his disheveled hair and sallow complexion, he looked every bit a boy who had battled with life and been severely beaten by it.

Harry looked exactly like she felt.

Severus stroked his thumb over her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. A short half-smile was all that she could muster. Somebody needed to be optimistic and she lacked the desire and the willpower to offer that lie to herself or her companions.

Harry prattled on about his loneliness in his prison cell. Ron, who hadn't the extensive experience that she and Harry possessed, talked about his time in the hospital. She, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to talk about anything other than small spaces and hospital beds... but there was nothing to say. Soon enough, the room fell into a painful silence. The apprehension was a tangible, terrorizing thing that hovered over them all.

This was it.

White attempted conversation with each of them but eventually thought it better to succumb to the brooding quiet. He'd offered to summon a priest but she found the idea far too foreboding. Everyone seemed to agree. White looked as nervous as everyone else. Either he truly cared... or he was up to something.

There was the paranoia again.

An hour passed. Another hour passed. After that, much to everyone's chagrin, another hour passed. White's wife brought supper for the group but it was left untouched by everyone save White, who kept trying to tempt them into eating by exclaiming what an amazing cook his wife, Kate, was.

"I'm going bloody crazy!" Harry finally exclaimed, rising from his chair and beginning to pace again. "How long is this going to take?"

"The panel has to listen to all of the testimonies, read the documentation and listen to the agents' recommendations," White replied as though it should have been common knowledge. "It takes a while."

"So we have no choice but to sit here and wait," Harry spat.

"More or less, kid. Eat something; it'll pass the time."

Nobody made any move to grasp their forks. Harry and Ron stared at the food thoughtfully... she recognized the look from potions class, when Severus asked them to test their antidotes. All the while, she caught herself giving the food long looks and internally debating whether or not she really wanted it. On one hand, it looked good. On the other hand, she wasn't really hungry.

_Decisions, decisions..._

The door slid open again and a guard called for White. He left with a disgustingly hopeful thumbs-up and a reassuring smile. A collective sigh of relief was released into the room.

"Thank Merlin, I thought he'd never shut up," Ron muttered. "How are you all really?"

"I can't go back there," Hermione said quietly, unembarrassed by the admission. Severus clutched her hand again in silent understanding and in his own profession of the same fact.

"Likewise," Harry agreed.

"What choice do we have?" Severus asked. "If we're denied protection, we won't have any say in our fate."

Everyone was quiet again until Harry whispered, "What if they hand us over to Fudge?"

"Shut it, Harry," Ron hissed in a tone Hermione rarely heard from him. "That _won't_ happen. Everything is going to be fine."

"This was a stupid idea," Harry continued as he rose to begin pacing the floor. "America has _never_ helped anyone before. Why the hell do we think they're going to help us now?"

"Harry, now that they know what Fudge is doing..." Hermione began only to be abruptly cut off.

"They knew what Hitler was doing," Harry challenged. "They knew what Voldemort was doing."

Hermione felt Severus' hand tense slightly at the name.

"Harry!" Ron snapped, "That was different. They aren't going to hand us over to the Ministry. Everything is going to be fine."

No one said anything to the obvious lie. For all his good intentions, Ronald Weasley was in no position to promise them safety. The atmosphere in the room dismayed Hermione further. She'd imagined the reunion being more jovial, not this strained tension tainted with spoken and unspoken anxieties.

The door squeaked open again and White stepped inside followed by Reed. All eyes were instantly riveted on them. It was like her heart stopped, her brain suddenly abandoned her. No one moved. No one spoke. No one breathed. The world ceased to turn.

Everything boiled down to this moment.

White cleared his throat and shot the group a lopsided smile. "You won," he said after a grossly unnecessary pause. "Welcome home."

_That's it?_

She had to focus her effort to breathe evenly as she attempted to force these words to make sense. Dimly, she heard Harry and Ron cheer and felt Severus' still hand within her own.

"Are you all right?" Severus murmured to her. She nodded dumbly in return. Just as her mind was beginning to function again, she realized that Ron had swung her body into a huge Hagrid-worthy bear hug. Her feet dangled inches above the floor as she was spun in circles.

"There are still some things that need to be worked out," she heard White say, "but the panel has agreed that the Ministry is seeking to wrongfully imprison you and the situation may require some attention..."

White continued to speak -- the necessity for anonymity, what they would be doing -- but was ignored. The freedom had finally sunk in and she returned Ron's hug fiercely before welcoming Harry into the embrace. She was suddenly very happy that Ron hadn't allowed her feet to touch the floor again as she doubted she could stand on her own.

"If you step foot outside this country, we can't protect you -- but it's a pretty big country so you shouldn't have too many problems..."

She glanced over at Severus, who promptly shot her a look informing her that under no circumstances whatsoever would he even consider participating in a group hug, recently acquired freedom or not. Unlike her cohorts, he actually seemed interested in what White was saying.

"... we've got a quad here that you'll share until permanent arrangements can be made. A week, tops, I promise..."

Ron finally released her to the floor and the Golden Trio stared at each other with an elation that -- under normal circumstances -- could only be induced with heavy drugs. "See? I told you everything was going to be fine," Ron said in a tone reminiscent of his infamous mother, "but you just didn't listen, did you?"

White smiled as he inserted himself into the group, "If you could follow me, we can start coordinating the..."

"I want to go outside," Hermione said quickly. She had been trapped in a cell for over a month. Outside had only been a place she could think about... even during her 'playtime' she was still _inside_ a fence.

"Huh?" White asked.

"I want to go outside... right now," she added. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see Ron and Harry nodding emphatically. The desire didn't make sense... or maybe it did, she wasn't sure. She wanted to sit on a patch of grass. She needed to know that she wasn't trapped anymore.

She wanted out of this damn jumpsuit, too.

"Erm... sure, I guess. But you can't run off," White said. She witnessed the exact moment when he realized why this was important to her and she suppressed the laughter as he quickly tried to amend his statement. "Well, you _can_ run off but... umm... don't... because we've got some stuff to do... and we sort of need you here to do it." White opened the door and spoke to one of the guards for a moment.

When he turned back to the group, "This is Joe," he said as he absently introduced the guard, who gallantly tipped his hat to her. "He'll take you outside. I'm going to go get started on the paperwork. Just don't take too long."

Every nerve in her body sang. She was barely able to restrain from hopping about in glee. Harry looked like he was about to burst with excitement and Ron followed suit. Severus, as she had expected, looked almost as disinterested as usual; the giveaway for his enthusiasm being the speed in which he followed the guide.

After passing through a few hallways, the final door was opened, revealing an endless area with no fences or walls to hold her in. The grass was tall from lack of attention and came up to her knees in some areas. Harry and Ron took off in an instant, running through the unkempt grass and bellowing into the sky. She couldn't help but smile as she chose a spot to sit in and stared at the treeless landscape and the orange and red sky.

It was over. It was finally over.

Severus sat next to her. She could hear his knees cracking as he lowered himself to the ground. She dropped her head against his shoulder, feeling it tense for a moment before relaxing again.

"You wanted to speak with me?" he asked, even though it wasn't a question.

"You stayed," she replied while staring at Harry and Ron.

"Obviously," he stated.

She fought the grin that threatened to overpower her mouth. "You deliberately stayed."

He held his breath for a moment before responding again, "Obviously."

"Because you didn't want to leave me?" she finally asked after a long pause, craning her head to gauge his reaction to the bold question.

He stared at the sunset for a long while before twisting his head to look at her. Cupping her cheek in his large hand, he touched a soft kiss to her lips. The action itself told her the truth but she halted him when he attempted to move in again.

"Why?" she asked. She knew the answer but she needed to know if she'd been wrong. Severus was so enigmatic... she needed to know that he'd remained involved in this clandestine mission for her.

He moved closer to her until his cheek was pressed softly against her own. "From the expression on your face, I assume you already know," he murmured into her ear. When he pulled away, she detected the slightest ghost of a smile on his face.

They weren't the exact words she'd wanted to hear but they answered her question in the only way he knew how to tell her. Shifting behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. She relaxed into the embrace and smiled. He hadn't said that he loved her but he'd told her all the same. With Severus, words were weakened nonentities.

There were still dozens of questions she needed to ask and the future was far from certain but she pushed them all to the back of her mind as she felt Severus place several soft kisses onto her neck, creeping slowly up to her cheek. She rested her head on his shoulder, giving him easier access, and absently brought a hand up to stroke his hair.

Taking her chin, he pulled her lips against his. If she'd harbored any doubts as to his feelings for her, they would have been instantly erased as he kissed her with a fervor she never experienced from him before. His tongue played with hers as though they had all the time in the world and nothing else to think about.

When he pulled away, she was nearly gasping for breath. Pressing another brief, silent kiss to her lips, he delicately nudged her face towards the landscape, urging her to stare at the open fields she'd been dreaming of since she'd come to this godforsaken country. She contented herself to bow back against him again and follow his unspoken directions.

In that instant, she knew with a startling clarity that she would probably never understand Fudge's motivations for rebuilding the Dementors. The curse that murdered Albus Dumbledore would remain a mystery as well; and it was better that way.

There were some problems that she would never solve... some questions that could never be answered. The enigma of the man she rested her head against was only one of them. No text or lectures held any hope of unraveling them

Knowledge didn't present any permanent solutions to the dozens of troubles that plagued her mind. She realized now that there were some things that she was never going to know... some things were indeed better left unknown... and for the first time in her short life, that was acceptable.

Staring into the silent sparkling sunset, she took note of her companions as well as the situation and decided that sometimes the conclusion was more important than the reasons.

_Ignorance is bliss_.

* * *

**The End**

**

* * *

**

**_Author's notes_**- TheGreyLady sat in a hospital bed, maniacally pounding her hand over the button to the morphine-drip.

Weasel, the hated yet beloved character from the story "Disturbances," stepped from the shadows. Using his handy-dandy opposable thumb, which TheGreyLady gave him (but he may have already had and neither of them realized it), he thrust a microphone in TheGreyLady's face.

"So, TheGreyLady, you've finished your first story!" Weasel said semi-kindly. "How do you feel?"

TheGreyLady giggled inanely, "I feel fucked up, man."

"Why's that?" Weasel looked to the left and right before whispering, "Can I have some?"

"Nope, prescription painkillers to help me recover from surgery."

"Damn," Weasel glowered. "Well, once you recover from surgery, what are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna write an epilogue!" TheGreyLady cheered with much more enthusiasm than was warranted.

"AFTER THAT, YOU DRUNKEN, NARCOTIC WHORE!" Weasel shouted.

"Huh? Oh yeah!" TheGreyLady giggled some more, "I'm gonna go to Disneyland!"

Weasel gasps, "So, does that mean that you're going to FINALLY finish Disturbances?"

"Yup."

"Am I gonna score with that jarvey? Am I going to kill Mrs. Norris?" Weasel asked. TheGreyLady remained silent, staring vacantly into empty space. "Tell me something here, you alcoholic!"

"Sweetheart?" A woman's voice rang through the room, interrupting any response TheGreyLady would have had to Weasel's insubordinance. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Mom!" TheGreyLady called back.

"What are you up to?" TheGreyLady's Mom asked.

"She's busy writing Harry Potter fanfi..." Weasel began before finding his mouth slammed shut by TheGreyLady's hand.

"I'm... uhhh... sleeping?"

"Oh, all right! Let me know if you need anything!" TheGreyLady's mom called.

"Dude, your mother doesn't know that you write HP fanfic?"

"Nope."

"You haven't even told your own _mother_?! I'm telling!"

TheGreyLady turned to the furry, four-legged creature and laughed/growled, "You do it... and you just wait until I get my author's omnipotence back, you'll be lacking the proper equipment to nail that jarvey you've had your eye on."

"The readers would have your ass, Lady."

"Hmmm..." TheGreyLady hummed. The tell-tale lightbulb appeared over her head and she snapped her fingers.

Weasel looked around in terror as the opening dialogue for "Baby Got Back," began to play. As the music began to play, Weasel was helpless but to angrily prance to the music.

Weasel scowled and danced as TheGreyLady turned to the readers and began to speak.

_So, I'm kinda laid up right now. I'm fine, thanks for asking. This was a planned surgery that's really only a medium scale procedure... or so I keep telling myself. I was REALLY aiming to have the story done before I had surgery done... but, as you can plainly see, I failed to hit that deadline._

_Well, I've done it. After all the tears, sweat and obscenely long waits between updates, I've finally finished "Mephistopheles". There will be an epilogue but the story itself is done. HOORAY!_

_Now, just for the sake of getting MoaningMyrtle to roll her eyes, let's all give her a big old round of applause for beta-ing my fic and making it better!_

_For anyone wondering, the ending of this fic is inspired by a (now removed) fanfiction by the name of "Echoes" by Teagan )_

Next projects coming your way include but are not limited to (1.) Finally finishing Disturbances, (2.) TheGreyLady's Guide to Writing Gooder- More Writing Tips Than You or Your Grandmother Can Handle, and (3.) Some other stuff, including something I'm supposed to write for a ficathon...

_Thanks for sticking around! Love you all. The epilogue shouldn't take too long... in theory... and rest assured, there will be smut involved._

Please do not let your grandmother read TheGreyLady's Guide to Writing Gooder.

Blatantly ripped off from . TheGreyLady acknowledges that she's got no talent when it comes to funny stuff. ;)


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